


Fraction Of Truth

by roryheadmav



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Slash, X-men - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-06-01
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-04 14:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1758. In the midst of the turbulent war between England and France, Logan is given a mission to apprehend a mysterious thief who has been stealing from London nobility. Soon, however, he uncovers a secret plot involving a missing mutant with potentially cataclysmic powers. What does all this have to do with his alluring new partner Gambit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story primarily focuses on the pairings, Wolverine/Gambit and Iceman/Chamber. However, several X-Men characters will be appearing in the course of this tale. Since this story is practically writing itself, at this point, I cannot say for certain which specific characters will be playing significant roles. Still, I hope you enjoy it!

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

_June 28, 1758_

_Summers Estate_

_Graymalkin, London_

 

Whilst on the ship en route back to England from America, Captain James Logan Howlett – or simply Logan as he was known among his fellow officers and close associates in His Majesty King George II's service – often wondered what matter of urgency it was that prompted the order for his most immediate return to London. With recent news of the outcome of the battle at Krefeld, his presence was certainly not needed during these times when the entire country was reveling in their victory against the combined might of France and Austria.

It was his official opinion as an officer and a gentleman that his duties lay in the volatile colonies, especially now that there was a steadily growing influx of French settlers who were forcibly being displaced from Canada. On a more personal note, there was his unspoken desire to settle in the Americas. The vast tracts of virgin wilderness appealed to his primal nature. And there was his growing resentment and anger towards the injustices being committed upon the poor colonists by the French _and _English alike, men and women who were torn from their families and homeland due to circumstances of criminality, poverty or contradicting political beliefs, hoping to make new lives for themselves in that hostile, but beautiful land.

As he stood in a secluded corner of Lady Jean Grey-Summers' salon puffing on a cigar, Logan was even more convinced that he had made a mistake in returning to England. Underneath the savory aroma of the sumptuous dishes being served on the buffet table and the smoke of pipes and cigarettes, the tension that permeated the salon was so thick that it could be cut with a mere butter knife. And, there was the unmistakable scent of blood that exuded from a distinct group of soldiers who had chosen to isolate themselves from the throng, eyeing the people around them with undisguised wariness and hostility. It certainly did not surprise him that the other officers in the room – belonging to his regiment – pointedly ignored them.

The M Regiment...one of only two regiments in the English army not assigned a number. Originally, it was intended to be named the E Regiment, for their enigmatic leader Colonel Nathaniel Essex, who was also the Duke of Wyndgate. After all, the X Regiment – to which Logan belonged – was named after Colonel Charles Xavier, the Duke of Westchester.

But only the inner circle of the army knew what the 'M' stood for. M...for Marauders. A group of special soldiers possessing inhuman powers who are sent forth as the army's vanguard in an attack. Logan knew that the M Regiment played a crucial role in the Battle of Krefeld. However, he dreaded to imagine what became of the Comte de Clermont's troops who met the onslaught of the Marauders.

As if reading his mind and distress, Major Malice threw a sly smile his way and raised her wine glass in a salute before returning to what she was discussing with Major John Grey Crow and Lieutenant Kim Il Sung, codenamed Scalphunter and Scrambler respectively. There were others whom he remembered by their _nom de guerre _– Prism, Riptide, Blockbuster, Vertigo. Yes, Arclight was Lady Philippa Sontag. Aside from Grey Crow, they have another Indian among them, an Inuit. Harpoon was what he was called, because of the large spears that he always carried in a quiver with him, even here in the Earl of Graymalkin's elegant estate.

Logan shook his head and frowned, all too aware of the bad blood that existed between the M and X Regiments. _What the hell was Charles thinking, bringing together two rival regiments like this? For once, I hope Drake decides to go off to a pub instead of obeying my order to attend this little soiree. I can't trust that boy to keep his smart ass quips to himself._

&lt;Why are you being so hard on young Robert, Logan?&gt;a welcome voice like warm sunshine giggled inside his mind. &lt;Robert's cheerful and effusive personality can liven up this party!&gt;

&lt;In this company? I doubt it, Jeannie,&gt; Logan harrumphed, although a smile quirked up the corners of his mouth. &lt;He's bound to say the wrong thing – without meaning to – and before you know it, everyone will be at each other's throats.&gt; He beamed fondly at the lovely vision in gold and crimson lamé approaching him. Pressing his left hand to his breast, he bent down and took a graceful hand, tenderly kissing the fingertips.

"Your beauty never fails to take my breath away, my Lady," Logan voiced his appreciation. "I see that His Grace has been taking good care of you." Softly, he whispered, "I missed you, Jean."

Lady Jean Summers flipped her fan open to cover the blush that colored her cheeks at that compliment from her former suitor. "And I missed you, Logan. Fifteen years is far too long. Even Scott missed you."

Logan cocked an eyebrow up. "Oh, did he?"

"Come now!" she swatted the Captain's chest with her left hand. "You may have been rivals for my affections, but you're the best of friends. I just wish you'd written often to us. He worried constantly about you, especially after..."

Troubled silence fell between them as Lady Jean's voice trailed off. Seeing how Logan averted his gaze, she knew she made a mistake in mentioning – even indirectly – about the incident that had led to the abrupt mobilization of several key X Regiment officers to Canada at the hasty command of Major Scott Summers, the Earl of Graymalkin and her beloved husband. It was the one and only time that he exceeded his authority and, given the dire circumstances, he was thankful that Colonel Xavier had forgiven his transgression. After all, he did it for a good friend. All those involved in the mission had willingly disobeyed authority for Logan.

But Logan could never forgive himself for what he had almost done to his comrades. What he _had _done to the one who had tried the most to help him...

Jean took the Captain's hand in her gentle grasp, caressing the metal protrusions at his knuckles. "Don't berate yourself for what had happened. You weren't...in your right mind...back then, no thanks to the merciless bastards who had kept you prisoner, who had...tortured...you. You're not to blame."

"It's easy to say that, Jeannie, but I could never forget...ever." Logan's hand closed into a trembling fist in his former lover's grasp. "Up to now, Erik's death haunts my dreams. His blood still stains my hands." He looked at the woman before him questioningly. "How is...the Lady Anna Marie?"

"I assure you she is well. She has long forgiven you inside her heart. But I should let her be the one to tell you personally..."

A choked sound escaped Logan's lips, seeing Lady Anna Marie von Lehnsherr, the beautiful widow of the Landgrave Erik Magnus von Lehnsherr heading their way. As she drew close, the Captain fell to his knee at her feet, dropping his gaze.

"My Lady..." he began with deep shame. "This coward has returned to offer his belated condolences and his sincere apology for the terrible crime he had committed upon you and your family. If you desire it, I am willing to be shackled and brought to Newgate to pay for my crime."

"Please stand, Captain Howlett," was the soft request.

Logan got to his feet, but he dared not meet her emerald gaze. He found himself gasping, however, at her next words.

"I hold no ill will against ya for wha' happened to mah husband," Lady Anna Marie told him in her distinct accent, for she came from the southern parts of the Americas. "To Erik, ya were a comrade who needed his help. Ahm sure that he wished he could've done more for ya."

Logan squeezed his eyes tight to hold back his tears of remorse. _That's because he never got the chance._

"But because of me...Anna...you lost a husband. The only man who could..."

Anna, however, remained an image of complete understanding. She showed no signs of being disturbed by what he had stammered so unwittingly. Or was she? Logan noted how the young woman clasped her gloved hands together. Known in military circles as the operative Rogue, Lady Anna Marie has the ability to absorb the powers and memories of another individual with a mere touch. The only one who had been immune to her power was her late husband, the Landgrave von Lehnsherr, who was codenamed Magneto. With Lehnsherr's untimely demise, however, a cure for her condition – which theoretically lay in the field of magnetism – was lost forever.

And the blame – and the shame – fell squarely on Logan's shoulders.

"Ahm fine, Logan," the young lady addressed him by his name for the first time. "Erik wouldn't have wanted me to grieve for him so long. Ah have to move on. Ah've been coping." She then added, "Nathaniel has been most kind to me."

Logan nodded, not quite relieved, but he was glad that someone had been caring for the young widow, even if it were a man of dubious reputation as...

"Speaking of Nathaniel," Jean interrupted in an obvious attempt to steer their discussion away from the distressing matter of Lehnsherr's death, "I thought you and he would be arriving together."

"No, he'll be coming with Colonel Xavier. I heard they're on the way as we speak."

Sure enough, Major Scott Summers' mind voice reached his wife and Logan loud and clear. One of the perks of having a beautiful telepath for a spouse.

&lt;We'll be there in fifteen minutes,&gt; Scott announced, his mind voice bright and cheerful. &lt;Sorry. Essex was rather perturbed that one of his men had not shown up at his home as ordered. The Colonel left instructions with his steward instead for the young man to proceed there. If he should arrive ahead of us, please entertain him, dear.&gt; There was the unspoken hint that the officer in question was in trouble with his superior, so before the punishment should fall on his head, perhaps a glass or two of wine could bolster his spirits. To Logan, Scott greeted warmly, &lt;It's so good to have you back, my friend.&gt;

Before the Captain could send out a mental reply, a booming voice spoke from the doorway, "I thought we were having a party? This place reeks like a slaughterhouse."

They all turned to see Major Warren Worthington III, Earl of Michaelmas, hand his cloak, hat and cane to one of the valets. With great exaggeration, Lady Elizabeth Braddock laid a hand over her forehead at her fiancé's rude remark.

"Watch your mouth, Worthington," Scalphunter growled menacingly. "In case you've forgotten, you used to be one of us."

Hearing the exchange through the minds of Logan and his wife, Scott declared, &lt;Good luck! Hold the fort until we get there.&gt;

Logan breathed out an exasperated sigh as the mental connection was terminated. "And for a while there, I was worried that Drake would be the one to spoil the party with his pranks. I see very little has changed while I was gone."

As Lady Anna Marie giggled demurely, Jean pulled her determinedly along. "Come on, Anna. Betsy could use our support." Putting on a most vibrant smile of artifice, she approached the newcomers and greeted, "Warren! I knew I could count on you to liven up this modest gathering. Anna, please do have Major Grey Crow sample this most exquisite claret."

If Logan thought he was off the hook, he was gravely mistaken. A strong mind voice ordered, &lt;As for you, mingle. You don't make a pretty wallflower, you know, Logan. Someone might even mistake you for a chimney.&gt;

The Captain took Jean's not-so-subtle hint, grudgingly stubbing out his cigar in the loose earth of the potted palm at his feet. With a snort, he mumbled, "And I came back to England just to be insulted? Hmph!"

However, before he could urge his reluctant carcass to – Oh, the horror of the thought! – mingle, a familiar offensive presence caused the hairs at the back of his neck to bristle. Then, a dark shadow fell upon him and a most devilish voice spoke up.

"I knew I smelled somethin' funny in here. If it isn't the runt! Whatcha doin' back here? Did somethin' stupid in the Americas again so they spit ya out?"

Logan slowly turned to glare at the grinning figure of Victor Creed. It was rare to see the M Regiment Captain known as Sabretooth in dress uniform, preferring the _au naturel _freedom of a simple undergarment in the field. When he did, though, he was a striking vision of sartorial splendor because of his magnificent physique and towering height. Logan, who was dressed in a simple colonist's dark blue coat and a pale yellow shirt underneath, looked drab and downright puny in comparison.

For all intents and purposes, the two men should be kindred spirits, since they both shared a feral nature. But it was this primal instinct that has set them at each other's throats. As Logan glowered at his arch nemesis, there was the undeniable scent of the savage in Creed, and no, it did not have anything to do with bloodlust. Creed was more animal than human. With his heightened senses, he also detected a whiff of something else. Subtly pleasant, a hint of spice, downright appealing... Logan found himself responding to that indefinable scent.

Seeing his rival's nostrils flaring, Creed chuckled, "Like how I smell, eh, runt?"

Logan grimaced in disgust at the small patch of wetness at the front of Creed's trousers. "I gotta hand it to ya, bub. No matter what the situation is, ya always manage to squeeze in a quick romp. So, knowing you, I hope the poor girl was still able to stand."

Creed laughed as he buttoned up the lower part of his waistcoat to hide the incriminating stain. "My...diversion...was a lot hardier than the fare I'm accustomed to. Feisty, that one. Just looking to be punished."

"And does Essex know what ya do with your...amusements?"

What sounded like a guilty gurgle was elicited from the taller man's throat. "Well...I wouldn't call Essex a saint. The man's got his kinks. But, he wouldn't want me messin' with his property...if ya know what I mean."

Logan glanced at Lady Anna Marie who was chatting with Vertigo and Arclight. "I'm up to messin' you up myself if ya do anything to that poor girl."

"Huh? Who? Lehnsherr's leftovers?" Creed exclaimed in surprise. "Frail's a light frigate, and even Erik knew it. The only thing holdin' that filly back is her damned powers. Nah! Essex is not interested in her that way, and neither am I."

Feeling a heavy hand pat the tap of his head caused Logan's face to turn sour, sharp canines peeking out of his mouth in a silent, but ominous, snarl. "No need to get your dander up, Wolverine," Creed chuckled, knowing full well just how irritated the shorter man was at being treated like a pesky puppy. "I've got my sights set elsewhere."

Logan would have gutted the man where he stood, but he knew his hide would be in greater jeopardy from Jean if Creed's blood were to gush on her plush Persian carpet. With gritted teeth, he endured one last hard thump on the head and Creed, laughing at his jest, sauntered off, leaving in his wake that elusive scent that teased and tickled the X Regiment Captain's nostrils.

For several minutes, Logan debated with himself on whether he should still stay or go. He knew he should at least wait for Scott and pay his respects to Colonel Xavier. But with most of his close friends in the regiment not present – possibly having been assigned elsewhere – he was practically being ignored. It was not out of ill will, but the fact that the gruff captain projected an aura of distance and inapproachability. With no one to talk to, Logan was dying from boredom.

_Where's Drake when you need him? _He lamented. At least, his lieutenant's cheerful chatter held some amusement for him.

Logan had just about made up his mind to sneak away and head off to his favorite pub. As far as he could see, there was absolutely no reason for him to stay any longer. But then, the gentle evening breeze blew through the opening glass door to the garden, carrying with it the scent that had so tantalized his senses.

Before Logan knew what he was doing, he had extended both arms to catch the source of that alluring scent as he stumbled into the Captain's embrace in a flurry of soft blue velvet and long silky auburn hair. Something fell with a soft tap on his boot and he saw that it was a pair of darkly colored spectacles. As he bent down to pick up the fallen glasses, his sharp eyes immediately noticed the rumpled and partially buttoned up trousers. Creed's scent was nauseatingly strong and he realized that the young man in his arms was his nemesis' unwilling paramour.

"Are ya all right?" Logan asked with genuine worry as he helped the stranger to his feet.

With his head bowed, the young officer hastened to close his trousers, with Logan providing ample cover. "Oui. Je vais bien," he spoke in French. "Je suis desole, Monsieur, for de inconvenience. I am in a hurry to meet my superior officer, mais a salaud waylaid me in de dark." His hands went up to his auburn hair that now tumbled in waves over his shoulders and down to the middle of his back. "Merde! Where did my ribbon go?"

The Captain saw the missing hair tie flying in the wind outside, already out of reach. "It's long gone, bub. Sorry. But I got your glasses right here."

It was at that reply that the young man raised his head, drawing himself up to his full height. The top of Logan's head just barely reached his shoulder. As their eyes met, Logan could hardly stifle his gasp at the sight of those startled inhuman orbs – ebony where the whites should be with a glowing ruby disk in its center.

A thick curtain of copper lashes dipped to cover those exotic eyes in what was obviously shame. But Logan would have none of it. Something in those ruby orbs tugged at his soul. He was gripped by the urge to pinch that stubborn chin between his fingers in order to tip the younger man's face upwards so that he could behold those beautiful eyes again.

Indeed, Logan was about to do just that. Before he could lift a finger, a loud and displeased voice declared, "Lt. Gambit! There you are! I was afraid that you wouldn't be joining us."

Completely forgetting about his spectacles, the young officer named Gambit murmured, "Merci, Monsieur. Excusez moi," as he hastened to approach Colonel Nathaniel Essex, who had just entered the salon with Colonel Charles Xavier. Crippled in a past battle, Xavier was being pushed in a wheelchair by the formal figure of Major Scott Summers. Scott – Logan observed – was no longer wearing colored spectacles but special ruby glasses that were strapped tightly over his eyes. From experience, the Captain knew how many spectacles had been destroyed by those fierce beams that blasted out of Scott's eyes.

Bowing respectfully to his superior officers, Gambit apologized, "Je suis desole, Colonel. I know dat I was supposed to accompany you. Mais, an unexpected...matter...came up an'..." He straightened up and squeezed Essex's hand, before offering a similar handshake to Xavier and Scott.

Logan knew that, to everyone in the room, it seemed like a congenial gesture of acquaintance and friendship. With his sharp eyesight, however, he had seen Gambit press into Essex's hand what looked like a black leather strap. He also did not miss Essex give a start, his red eyes narrowing at the side windows of the salon. It was only when Gambit blinked at him with those lovely eyes that Essex regained his composure.

Red eyes... The Captain wondered if Essex and Gambit were related in some way. They certainly could not be father and son. Essex was a big man, with a formidable height and body build. Gambit, on the other hand...

For Logan, the concept of beauty was exclusive to nature and the fairer sex. Never had he thought that he would use the word itself to describe Lieutenant Gambit. His face was the perfect blend of the masculine and the feminine – possessing the sharp cheekbones and firm jaw of a man. But his nose was long, almost delicate, his lips full and rosy like a woman's. His lustrous, flowing auburn mane was the obvious envy of many women in the room. His body was not heavily muscled like most of the officers present. It was lean and graceful like a panther. Visible through the opening of his blue dress uniform were long, shapely legs that ascended to the narrowest hips he had ever seen on a man. Too bad the coattails shielded the boy's bottom from his critical eye.

Glancing at Sabretooth who stood beside the piano, it seemed Logan was not the only male who appreciated the boy's assets. With sheer lasciviousness, Creed licked his lips slowly. The lustful gesture did not escape Gambit's notice. A dark scowl formed on his handsome face, and he moved unobtrusively to stand behind his superior officer.

Recalling his earlier desire to peruse the Lieutenant's behind, Logan inwardly prayed that Creed had not damaged it too much.

Scott pushed the wheelchair forward so that Xavier was beside Essex. The two men faced everyone in the room. All were looking back at them curiously, with a little eagerness, to find out the reason for their assembly.

"I know all of you are probably wondering why we're all here this evening," Xavier began, his hands forming a steeple before him. "An important matter was relayed to Nathaniel and I, and we are both in agreement that this should be brought up with the officers of both X and M Regiments that are presently stationed here in England. The others shall be briefed once they arrive from India."

"And what is this matter about, Charles?" a low, elegant voice inquired.

Logan beamed as the stately figure of Major Ororo Monroe stepped forward. Although obviously having just arrived – judging from her rumpled uniform – the X Regiment's Weather Goddess still maintained her regal composure, which was broken briefly by an approving wink thrown at Logan's direction.

It was Essex who answered her query. "The matter in question, My Lady, happens to have a name...Le Diable Blanc."

Warren almost choked in his brandy at that name. "That blackguard! That...that thieving knave! Bastard stole a precious heirloom that has been in my family for centuries!"

Grey Crow could not help smirking at Worthington's tirade. "Now, now, My Lord. Such vulgar epithets are unbecoming of an Angel such as yourself."

Seeing Warren's hidden wings twitching under his coat, Charles tactfully continued, "I've heard the man called names much worse than that, Major Grey Crow. Le Diable Blanc has broken into the homes of several of the nobility and escaped with treasures of inestimable worth with effortless ease, leaving behind his trademark playing card."

"Colonel Xavier," Arclight put in, "surely you're not saying that our two regiments are to be deployed to find this thief? This should be the duty of the constables."

"True, but there are two reasons that necessitate the involvement of the X and M Regiments."

"And what reasons are these?" Lady Betsy asked in turn.

Raising an index finger, Essex began, "First reason, we believe that Le Diable Blanc is not just a thief, but a spy as well, probably for the French, given that he had chosen a French name for his alias. We also believe that the thefts were merely to cover up a sinister plot to steal state secrets." He nodded to Major Malice. "The Major there has informed me that there were indications that someone attempted to break into the M Regiment offices two days ago."

A disturbed murmur rose among the guests in the salon. With his sharp hearing, however, Logan caught something else.

A derisive snort, followed by a deep mind voice with a heavy Cockney accent, saying, &lt;Oh, really! As if 'e'd be like one o' those daft buggers who'd get caught that easily!&gt;

Logan whirled towards the window, but there was no one there. He was about to peek outside, but Jean's voice captured his attention.

"What about the second reason?" she asked in interest.

It was Xavier who replied next. "Given his extraordinary skills, Nathaniel and I have every reason to suspect that he is one of us. As you well know, the existence of our...race...is a closely guarded secret in the military. Or supposed to be."

Essex caught his fellow officer's pointed glance. "Yes, discretion should be our middle name. That's why I do apologize for one of my men's...zeal...during the battle at Krefeld."

There was no mistaking whom Essex was referring to. The other officers were equally throwing dark looks at Victor Creed who, instead of being abashed at the dubious attention, preened and laughed, and raised his glass in a toast to his superior.

"Well, that incident was hushed up," Xavier explained, "but with this matter of Le Diable Blanc, our existence would be put in jeopardy if he were captured and the nature of his unique abilities was discovered."

"So what do you propose we do with this felon?" Warren asked, a moue of disapproval already crinkling the corners of his pursed lips.

It was Scott's turn to speak. "I've already assigned some X officers and select soldiers to certain military establishments in case Le Diable Blanc should strike. Although the M Regiment is not under my command, I'm hoping that my fellow officers would do the same in the areas of their jurisdiction. Our duty is to foil any of Diable's attempts to steal military secrets."

"As for Le Diable Blanc himself," Essex took up the discussion, "Charles and I agreed that this should not turn into a scandalous hunt for a common criminal. For this purpose, we have selected the two men whose talents are most suited for this mission."

Xavier turned a firm gaze towards Logan. "Captain Wolverine, I know that your special skills are most useful in the Americas, but this is a matter of urgency that requires those same talents."

Essex gestured for Lieutenant Gambit to step forward. "Don't worry, Captain. I've chosen my most resourceful man to be your partner in this endeavor. I'm sure you'll find Lt. Gambit to be a most trustworthy ally, despite his youth."

Xavier took this opportunity to address the tall young officer. "Lt. Gambit, we haven't had the chance to be properly introduced."

Gambit bowed graciously to the older man. "Ah, but your reputation precedes you, Monsieur. I feel truly humbled to make de acquaintance of de great Colonel Charles Xavier. I am yours to command, My Lord."

"It is I am who am honored that you could join our little family for even a short period of time," Xavier countered, visibly impressed with the younger officer. "I'm sure you'll prove to be a valuable asset to the X Regiment as well as a source of pride to Colonel Essex and your fellow officers."

That statement of acceptance was all it took to lift the heavy tension in the air. As Logan looked on, the two regiments began to mingle and chat and share congenial drinks. But the one person who was responsible for lightening up the mood considerably was Lieutenant Gambit. He flitted among the guests like a seasoned social butterfly, introducing himself with a smile and a polite bow to the gentlemen or with a most titillating kiss on the fingertips to the ladies. Somehow, it did not surprise him that everyone was falling for his delectable charms.

Those charms... As he watched the young officer, there was...something...that was tickling the fringes of his awareness. Before he realized what was happening, Logan's blue eyes turned golden yellow as his feral nature took over, eyeing Gambit with unmistakable lust. That lithe, graceful body, that flowing auburn mane, those beautiful red on black eyes...the fierce Wolverine inside him was screaming at him to claim the young man for his mate. Indeed, the urge was so strong that he did not feel that one sharp fang had bitten down on his lower lip, drawing a tiny drop of blood.

Oblivious to the change in her friend, Major Ororo Monroe approached Logan and asked cheerfully, "Well, Logan, my good friend? What do you think of your new partner?"

"Grrrr," was the overprotective reply that caught the Weather Goddess' ears.

The X Regiment major codenamed Storm jerked back, seeing those sharp golden eyes. But her surprise was momentary. Covering her giggles with graceful fingers, she exclaimed, "My oh my! I can see you DO like him."

Warren, who was intending to exchange a word or two of greeting with the Captain, saw the change in Logan, and rolled his eyes. "Really, Wolverine!" he snorted as he opted to walk past them. He certainly did not count himself among those who were captivated by the M Regiment lieutenant's charms. "I'd been hoping that you'd have SOME taste at least."

Unable to resist the opportunity to pester his rival, even Victor Creed sauntered by and gave Logan's head another good thumping. "Down, boy!" he laughed raucously.

Wolverine was about to snap at Sabretooth's hand with his teeth when he heard a shocked, "Ohh!"

Whirling, Wolverine found himself gaping at the object of his fascination. Lieutenant Gambit was staring at him fearfully through those lovely ruby and ebony orbs. To convey his desire to the younger man, he let a long, wet tongue emerge from his mouth and slowly, suggestively lick his lips. Still, a drop of blood formed at the site of the earlier puncture.

Mesmerized by that blossoming crimson drop, Gambit swallowed hard, the nervous movement causing a bead of sweat to trickle from his brow, down his cheek, and enter his full parted lips at the corner. His right hand went up to his breast as though his pounding heart was being consumed by the animal lust that the older man was exuding.

Then, as if having dredged up a smidgen of courage from somewhere deep inside him, Lieutenant Gambit took one cautious step forward...then another...and another. With each step closer, the sensation that had been teasing his feral nature gradually withdrew until it was nothing more than a faint feather's stroke of a farewell. When Logan lifted his startled blue gaze, what he beheld was not the sensually desirable creature that had captivated his senses, but the strikingly handsome but very vulnerable young man he had caught in his arms earlier. A most beautiful young man with such pain in his red on black eyes that caused his lonely heart to ache with sheer longing.

Smiling gently, Gambit dabbed at the cut on Logan's lower lip carefully with a white linen handkerchief. "You're hurt, Monsieur. Let me take care of it for you."

Ororo had been observing the two men. With a most uncharacteristic grin on her lovely face, she whispered conspiratorially, "That's my cue to leave so that you two could get acquainted." Before Logan could growl a protest, Ororo was gone.

Flustered, Logan made to take the handkerchief from the younger man, but his traitorous right hand closed around Gambit's fingers instead and gave them a squeeze. At the sight of the becoming blush that rose on Gambit's cheeks, Logan turned bright red himself as he plucked the handkerchief out of the lieutenant's grasp with his left hand.

"Uh, I thank ya for your concern," Logan stuttered in embarrassment, "but I can do it myself." He raised his right hand to his mouth, only to discover that what the particular appendage was still holding was Gambit's hand and that those trembling fingers were now pressed to his lips. "I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, as he lowered both their hands and pressed the handkerchief that was in his left hand to his mouth.

Gambit chose not to point out the fact that the Captain still had not released his hand. Instead, wanting to divert the older man's abashed attention elsewhere, he gestured to the buffet table and inquired, "Monsieur, dat homme over dere seems very excited to see ya."

Frowning, Logan turned in the direction Gambit pointed at, his eyes widening at the sight of his much late subordinate.

Lieutenant Robert Drake had one silver tray filled to heaping with assorted dishes and pastries, precariously balanced on his left palm. He was grinning from ear to ear, wagging his right thumb up in exuberant approval.

"DRAKE!" Logan snarled at his aide, as Drake grabbed a plump pheasant leg.

Seeing the menacing expression on his Captain's face, Drake turned pale and immediately decided that a quick retreat was called for. Chomping the pheasant leg comically between his teeth, he snatched the other leg from the plate of a shocked Warren. Sketching his fuming superior officers a hasty salute, he fled to the gardens outside with his sumptuous haul in tow.

"Drake! Come back here!" Logan was about to give chase with the intent of giving his errant subordinate a stern reprimand, but stopped when he realized that he was pulling Gambit along with him.

The sudden step forward caused a sharp pain to shoot up from Gambit's abused bottom to his lower back, drawing a pained yelp from his lips.

"I'm sorry! So sorry!" Logan stammered, wrapping his arms around Gambit and gently easing him up. "Are ya well, kid? I didn't...hurt ya...now, did I?"

Gambit understood at once what the Captain was struggling to keep discreet. "Je suis bien, mon capitaine. Not'in' dat a good night's rest on my belly wouldn't cure."

A frown furrowed Logan's brow. He did not like the idea that this beautiful young man was enduring abuse from the officers in his own regiment. Looking at the lieutenant once more, he saw the unmistakable joy in Gambit's lovely eyes. He remembered the boy's glasses and he pulled them out of his coat pocket and handed it to him. Gambit took the spectacles with a smile of gratitude.

"Are ya sure you're all right?" Logan could not stop himself from asking again. "I could take ya to Dr. McCoy. I'm sure he'll take care o' ya an' he can be counted on to keep his mouth shut."

"Merci, Captain Wolverine, but Dr. Essex will take good care of me," Gambit said sincerely. Shyly, he added, "I noticed dat young man o' yours seems to care for ya a great deal. It's not often dat you see an officer who is not only respected mais is also loved by his subordinates. I...I think I would be truly honored to work at your side."

"Nah, 'Captain Wolverine' is much too formal. Maybe if we're in the field, yes." Logan let a smile crack his craggy features. "But, since we are going to be partners, Logan would be just fine."

"Logan..." Gambit tested the name on his tongue and found it to be to his liking. "Oui, Logan den. My name is Remy LeBeau. Mais you could just call me Remy."

"Remy...nice name." Logan extended his right hand which the younger man shook warmly. "Welcome to the X Regiment."

 

 

"Crap, crap, crap! Logan's sure to skewer my skinny butt on his claw! Maybe even roast me over a spit!"

It did not escape Lieutenant Robert Drake's notice that the curse he had chosen to berate himself with was the same dice game he had greedily indulged in at the gambling house, which had led to his being late for the officers' party at Graymalkin. Worse, he had lost the contents of his tiny purse at the craps table.

Knowing better than to fly above London on his ice slide, Robert opted on a novel solution. He froze the wet, cobblestone streets and alleys he chose to pass through and skated all the way to the Summers' estate. It was only when he saw that the massive iron gates were closed that he decided to create an ice slide, going up the walls and down into the lavish garden.

Because of this, Robert had a good view of the figure in black who was peeking through the window of Lady Jean's salon. As he landed, he could not help but grin broadly, seeing that the snooper was precariously perched on Jean's prized ceramic mushroom, one of many that were adorning her garden. The gnome sitting on top of the mushroom seemed to be peeking up at the young man's crotch. Unable to resist, Robert crept towards him until they were practically side by side.

"What's going on in there?" he inquired curiously.

Surprised, the young man let out a yelp, slipped from his position on the mushroom, and landed painfully on his behind. Robert barely stifled his shocked gasp, seeing that the lower half of the stranger's face down to the V of his black silk shirt was covered by black bandages. Judging from the bulk on his torso, Robert could only surmise that the man's injuries extended down to his chest. Unruly dark brown hair broke free from his ribbon, which had fallen to the ground. As he rubbed his aching bottom, the movement caused the notepad and pencil hanging from his neck to swing.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Robert quickly fell to his knees beside the young man. "Are you all right?"

Expressive reddish brown eyes glared back at him, eloquently saying, "Do I look all right to you?"

"I'm really, really sorry," Robert declared in all sincerity. Seeing that the stranger was uncomfortable on the ground, he strode towards a good-sized mushroom and pulled it out of the earth. Bringing it over, he stuck it through the soft ground and patted the top. "Here you go. You'll be more comfortable sitting on this."

Gingerly, the young man got up and settled down on the makeshift stool.

"Wait here," Robert said, eager to make it up to his poor victim. "Let me get us a bite to eat."

Running inside the salon, he sneaked over to the buffet table. Snatching a serving tray, he filled it to heaping with assorted goodies. Just as he was about to reach for the two plump legs from the stuffed pheasant that the maids had brought in from the kitchen, his sharp blue eyes caught sight of his superior. Logan was speaking to a strikingly handsome young man with glossy auburn hair. He could not contain his pleasure, seeing the smile and genuine interest on the Captain's face. Logan had been slow to heal from his traumatic experience in Canada and the tragic loss of his Indian wife, Silver Fox. The obvious attraction was a relief to him and, to his even greater gratitude, the other man seemed just as smitten with the gruff captain.

Possibly noticing his impish grin, the young officer pointed him out to Logan. When he gave the Captain an approving thumbs up, Logan's face turned as ominously dark as one of Storm's thunderclouds. Hastily biting one pheasant leg between his teeth and snatching the second one from an outraged Warren's plate, Robert made a swift escape into the garden.

To his relief, the young man was still in the place where he had left him. Those beautiful doe eyes grew large and round at the sight of the pile of food.

Robert plopped down on the grass, setting the tray between them. "You're probably shy about joining the crowd in there. I know I would, seeing that they're either officers or nobles or both. But, that doesn't mean the two of us are going to starve to death. So what better way to enjoy ourselves than to have a sumptuous picnic under the moon and stars and..." He grimaced at the small shadows scattered all over the garden. "...With some ugly dwarves watching us. Well, at least they don't eat. Now, come on. Let's enjoy the feast!"

The young man watched Robert tear into his pheasant leg with gusto. Taking pencil and paper, he scribbled a note, tore the page, and handed it to the ravenous officer.

Robert read it aloud, "Yer enjoy the feast for me mate. Already ate." He glared at the other man. "Nooo! I won't have it. You have to eat something. How about a slice of strawberry cake?"

A brief pause as the stranger bent down to write. "No, no cake. But thanks anyway."

"Why not? And I got all the good stuff for ya." Robert found himself pouting sulkily.

"An' I appreciate what ye did for me, mate. But, I'm sick, you see. My condition warrants that I should watch what I eat."

"That's not good! My Mama says that the fastest way to get better is to get stuffed. You're pretty skinny as it is. Is your...condition...the reason why you're wrapped in bandages?"

"Aye. Was in a terrible accident and had grave injuries as a result of it. Sadly, it's because o' those injuries that I developed another illness, which makes healing slower than normal."

Robert was determined to help his new acquaintance. "We've got a great doctor in X Regiment. His name's Dr. Henry McCoy. I could take you to him so he could examine you."

The young man quickly shook his head. "No thanks, mate. I already have a doctor. But, really. I do appreciate yer concern." He bent down and took the small bunch of sugar tulips from the slice of strawberry cake. "I'll just take these an' eat 'em later."

Robert was crestfallen at that reply. Nevertheless, he beamed, seeing his new friend cup the sugar posey to his chest. "If you say so, but in case you change your mind, you can look for me at the X Regiment barracks near Westchester. I'm Lieutenant Robert Drake, by the way. What's your name?"

A pink blush dotted those high cheekbones, as the young man wrote down on his pad once more. "Nice to meet ya, Robert. Jonothon Starsmore's my name."

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED**

**TRANSLATION**

Je vais bien. = I'm fine.

Je suis desole. = Excuse me.

Mais = But

Salaud = Bastard

Merde! = Shit!/Crap!

Merci = Thank you.

Excusez moi = Excuse me

Homme = Man

Je suis bien, mon capitaine. = I am well, my captain.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

Logan knew that Colonel Xavier and Scott were observing him as he escorted Lieutenant Remy LeBeau to Colonel Essex's waiting carriage. Essex was already sitting inside, smiling with undisguised approval as the two officers neared the open door.

"Merci for de pleasure of your company, Monsieur," Remy acknowledged with sincerest gratitude. "Mais, tomorrow, it'll be the start of work for us, oui? I shall go to your barracks bright an' early in de morning."

"Yes," Logan replied with a grin, discreetly noting how the drapes on the window of the opposite seat had been pulled close. "I'm counting on that."

"Don't worry, Captain," Essex reassured him, taking the younger man's hand and helping him inside the carriage. "I will personally make sure that he's punctual." The carriage shook a bit as Creed climbed into the seat beside the driver after securing three riding steeds to the back. Nodding to Logan and waving to Xavier and Scott, Essex said, "Good evening, Gentlemen." The door was then closed and the carriage rolled down the driveway and out the gates.

Only when the carriage was out of sight that Logan tucked his hands into his coat pockets and walked over to his comrades.

"You seem to be getting along quite well with Lieutenant Gambit," Scott observed with a hint of wryness in his voice.

"Don't go drawing conclusions, bub," Logan retorted dismissingly. "Now, how about you and Charles start telling me what this is _really_ all about. Ya wouldn't go to such extreme measures as to involve the M Regiment in the apprehension of a thief, even if he were one of us."

Xavier cocked an eyebrow up as he looked at the captain with amusement. "You've always been very perceptive, my friend." He took a deep breath. "Since you just arrived from the Americas, I suppose you don't know about the incident in Blunden four months ago."

"I may be livin' in the colonies, but ya get news from the folks who just got off the boats from England. Blunden...it's that small coal mining town that was completely destroyed in an explosion, correct? I heard it was a terrible accident of some sort, that the town's entire store of explosives blew up. Not a single man, woman or child survived."

"That's the official version that came out in the papers," Scott put in. "It was a big story after all. It would've been difficult for the military to hush up news of a blast of that magnitude. All that remained of Blunden was a large, gaping crater."

Logan's brow wrinkled in a thoughtful frown. "So what's the unofficial version then?"

"I have every reason to believe that the Blunden tragedy was caused by someone manifesting his or her powers for the first time," Xavier explained. "As you know, Jean and I have been conducting telepathic sweeps across the country for others of our kind that we don't know about."

The Captain nodded in understanding. The existence of their race was a closely guarded secret, not just because of the panic and hysteria that could possibly ensue if the general public were to know of the presence of people with inhuman abilities in their midst. Because of the turbulent times, there was the fear that these individuals would be exploited by those greedy for conquest and power. Xavier had made it his goal to seek out such individuals and offer them protection and training in the use of their powers, so that they would use these abilities for the benefit of all humanity.

"Four months ago," the Colonel continued, "while Jean and I were doing one such sweep, we were overwhelmed by a very intense psychic wave, which tore through our minds. It was so powerful that at first we could not break the link to whomever it was that was creating that wave. Through the connection, we heard the agonized screams of people. We lost consciousness after that. When we awoke three days later, we learned about what had happened at Blunden."

Scott took up the narrative. "I was with the Colonel and Jean at that time. Before they lost consciousness, Jean was able to give me some descriptions of the place where the wave originated. I immediately dispatched Storm and Angel to the countryside, knowing that they would be able to cover a much larger area and find the location faster than the ground troops because they could fly. It was Warren who found Blunden...or what's left of it. Just ruined houses, charred pieces of bodies, the mines completely caved in."

"And what made ya think that a..." Logan groped for a good word. They had yet to come up with a term for people like them with unique abilities. "...A changeling caused the explosion?"

Scott smiled at the term. It was a good enough description for one who had just come into his or her powers. "There were actually two blast craters. The second one would've been impossible to see at ground level. The smaller crater was the place where the explosives storehouse once stood. It only blew up as it was caught in the larger blast. The contents of the storehouse was only enough to create a small crater. But as for the large crater...we pinpointed its epicenter to be right smack in the heart of the town."

"But, with a blast of that magnitude, surely not even the changeling could've survived it!"

"Oh, I have a feeling that he or she _did_ survive the explosion," Xavier said with certainty, "because, one month after the tragedy, Le Diable Blanc began his thieving rounds in London."

"And you believe that there's a connection between the two." Logan fell silent, as he thought hard. "Yeah, I understand your line of thinking. If Le Diable Blanc had indeed broken into the M Regiment headquarters, it's possible that he could be looking for information on the changeling. We cannot rule out the most obvious motive that such a powerful individual could be of use in the war. Given the ability that was demonstrated, it's a guarantee to victory."

Scott nodded. "Yes, the French and their allies could easily crush us if they were to have such a powerful man or woman in their ranks."

"However," Xavier, interjected, frowning as his fingers tapped restlessly on the armrests of his wheelchair, "I fear that we are looking at but a mere fraction of the truth."

Logan folded his arms over his chest. "I think I know what you're talkin' about, or specifically who. Nathaniel Essex, am I right?"

"We have no reason to doubt that Essex himself is looking for others like us," Scott readily agreed with him. "He was the one, after all, who initially recruited Angel to the M Regiment. The reason why Warren transferred to the X Regiment was because he did not approve of the unsavory types that Essex had selected."

"We have yet to determine what Essex's motives are, but prudence dictates that we assume them to be questionable until proven otherwise," Xavier firmly pointed out.

"So that's why you want me to become partners with Gambit," Logan at once concluded. "You want me to gain his trust in order that I could find out what Essex's real plans are."

"Yes," Scott confirmed. "And while you're doing that, continue with your original mission of capturing Le Diable Blanc. If our talented thief is indeed searching for the changeling..."

"Both their lives could be in grave danger," Xavier ended Scott's statement for him. "We must get to them first before Essex or anyone else."

It was apparent what Logan's next question was supposed to be. With a reluctant sigh, he began, "All right then. What can you tell me about Lieutenant Gambit?"

Scott exchanged embarrassed glances with Xavier before answering, "Would you believe...very little?"

The Captain's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do ya mean 'very little'?" The Duke of Westchester has a very extensive intelligence network. None of their kind has ever escaped their detection. "Do ya honestly expect me to believe that?"

"I'm afraid it's the truth," Xavier confessed. "We only learned about Lieutenant Gambit's existence two weeks ago to be exact. We've received sketchy reports that he was with the M Regiment at Krefeld. Purportedly, he was the one who infiltrated the Comte De Clermont's ranks and destroyed their main cannons, but I doubt it. Except for the Marauders, Jean and I did not sense any new powers being used. But when the M Regiment returned to London from the battlefield, Gambit was supposedly with them."

"Supposedly?"

"Well," Scott scratched his head sheepishly, "there is only one operative in the X Regiment whom we could say could confirm for certain Gambit's early presence with Essex's crew. Unfortunately, we cannot divulge the information this operative had given us because this individual happens to be the one person whose identity, location and circumstances should remain an absolute secret for...reasons of moral delicacy. If we say more, it would be like marking him as a target."

Moral delicacy... Those two words carried a heavy meaning. Logan knew about the so-called 'unnatural attraction' that one man may have for another of his own gender. Among the younger officers in the X Regiment, he was aware of a few couples in clandestine relationships. Even his exuberant subordinate Lieutenant Drake harbored such predilections.

However, sodomy was a criminal offense. While secretly tolerated in military circles, those caught _in flagrante delicto_ were immediately arrested, brought to trial, and publicly executed. The Captain had seen only one such execution in his long lifetime, and it had been a most shameful display of public outrage. Logan's heart went out to the two men whose only crime was to fall in love with each other.

His thoughts going back to the matter at hand, Logan could not help but wonder who this mysterious operative was. Given Scott's insinuations, that would mean Remy LeBeau was...

Xavier quickly surmised the Captain's line of thinking. "We don't know that for certain yet. But we are well aware of the little fact that our operative seems to be rather...protective...of our young lieutenant."

"Perhaps your operative told you what Gambit's abilities are, at least."

"In that regard, our operative knows nothing, saying that Gambit has never demonstrated any of his powers. It's strange though, knowing that a member of our kind would not use his special abilities. Gambit must be quite a talented young man, not to rely on his powers. But then..." There was a measured pause. "Tell me, Logan. Did you sense anything about Lieutenant Gambit?"

"Yes, there was something," Logan admitted. "A subtle manipulation. As if there was something that was compelling me to like him."

"And did you...like him?"

"I won't lie that my other aspect reacted to the...seduction." Logan could not think of any other word to describe the sensation. "But, there was this brief moment when that...glamour...fell away, and I saw another side of him. Vulnerable, frightened..." He deliberately did not mention about Gambit's being molested by Sabretooth.

"I've sensed that in him as well," Xavier put in, "but when I tried to probe his mind, I encountered formidable shields. It would be impossible to breach those walls without detection."

Logan breathed in deeply. "This is not going to be a simple mission, Charles. I'm not exactly known for my subtlety."

"Yes, my friend, we're both aware of how you prefer to face a problem head on," Scott agreed with him. "But, you possess the insight to unearth the darkest of plots and perceive a man's true character. We could not entrust an important mission like this to anyone else, except you."

"And I thank ya for your confidence in me," Logan said bowing, although he still harbored strong apprehensions. The memory of pain-filled red on black eyes filled his mind. "I just hope I won't make a mess of things."

Xavier smiled at that spoken fear. "Don't worry, Logan. I have absolute faith in you."

Inwardly, the Captain thought with great self-doubt, _But...I've lost faith in myself._

Logan's eyes were drawn to the Marauders, who got on their steeds that the stable boys had brought for them, and rode away. His troubled musings brought him back to the carriage that had left earlier.

It was easy to assume that Gambit and Creed had ridden to Graymalkin on horseback. Essex obviously came by carriage in the company of Xavier and Scott.

The simple mathematics caused Logan's brows to knit together in a frown.

_So...who rode on the third horse?_

 

 

"Well? I'm waiting for an explanation."

They were halfway to Wyndgate Manor, and Remy LeBeau was practically choking from the tense atmosphere inside the carriage. Although his bottom was still tender from Creed's unwanted attentions, he dared not move an inch to relieve the pressure. Essex was a picture of stern control, but he knew that underneath that cool veneer, the Colonel was furious. The young man beside him was a different matter. Jonothon Starsmore's elbow was propped against the window, hand cupping his chin. Those sharp brown eyes stared directly at Essex, daring him to speak.

So, when Essex finally broke the silence with that question, Remy almost jumped out of his seat. Before he could utter a single word, Jono's angry psionic voice shot through their heads.

&lt;Ya bloody bastard! It's yer who owes us an explanation! Wha' the hell're ya thinkin', puttin' Remy's life in danger? What're ya up to, eh?&gt;

"Jono!" Remy quickly chided the younger man. "I can speak for myself!" He turned an apologetic eye to his superior officer. "Je suis desole, Monsieur. I was on de way to de manor to meet ya an' Colonel Xavier, mais I came upon Jono on de road, tailin' Sabretooth. I tried to bring him back to de manor, mais he stubbornly refused to return. Said dat Creed tol' him ya got plans dat involve me..."

&lt;An' I was right!&gt; Jono threw a smoldering glare at Essex. &lt;Remy ain't yer lapdog, Essex!&gt;

Remy hushed Jono once more before continuing, "...Mais I know dat you will brief me later on de details."

Essex nodded approvingly, "Spoken like a true soldier, LeBeau. Now, what can you say about meeting the X Regiment for the first time?"

"I un'erstand why ya chose not to brief me before de party. Is dat why ya wanted me to meet Colonel Xavier an' Major Summers at Wyndgate first? I felt de Colonel probe my mind."

"Your shields held, I hope."

"Oui, Monsieur. You taught me well." A smug smile formed on Remy's full lips. "So, I guess dis means dat we finally got deir attention."

At that remark, Jono turned a puzzled gaze towards Gambit.

"You've done exceptionally well," Essex praised his subordinate. "I knew your skills as a Guild Master Thief would prove useful. Even with my discussions with Xavier and Summers, I could see that they were still speculating on whether or not you belong to our race."

"Oui, I sensed de Colonel's curiosity. Too bad I can' charm everyone, non? Lord Worthington kept throwing evil looks my way."

"Hmph!" Essex snorted as he folded his arms over his chest and settled back into the seat. "He is just jealous that you've stolen everyone's attention from him. It's about time someone plucked a few feathers from that preening peacock. What about your new partner?"

Remy shook his head as he hesitantly confessed, "I am not sure. He reacted strangely to my charm." Up to now, he still could not forget the sight of hungry golden eyes and a tiny fang biting down on a full lip. "I had to pull it back. Mais, I can tell. He was interested in me."

&lt;Hello! Don' pretend that I'm not here,&gt; Jono remarked in annoyance. &lt;I demand ter know what's goin' on!&gt;

"Ever the impatient and distrustful one, aren't you, Chamber," the M Regiment leader gave the boy a paternal smile.

&lt;Ya 'ave yet to give me any reason to trust yer. An' don' call me that! I ain't one o' yer lackeys!&gt;

Essex heaved an exasperated sigh. "Remy here is on a very special mission. Right now, he has London in an uproar. As his talented alter ego Le Diable Blanc, he has been stealing priceless heirlooms from prominent families of the nobility."

&lt;But why? The riches that yer 'ave ain't enough for ya yet?&gt;

"I must admit those precious jewels were a welcome addition to my research funds, as well as for your...treatments." The M Regiment colonel emphasized that last word. "But no, my true goal was for Le Diable Blanc to draw the attention of the X Regiment and, in that, we've succeeded quite nicely. We even have official backing from our superiors in the military for the immediate apprehension of this notorious thief."

Jono frowned darkly. &lt;I don' understand.&gt;

"You see, my impetuous boy," Essex continued, "the X Regiment, specifically Charles Xavier, possesses an extensive file on known members of _Homo sapiens superior_. However, the location of these...Cerebro Documents...is a closely guarded secret. Malice had tried to get this information, but Xavier's officers are protected with strong mental shields that even she could not break through by possessing their bodies. The only way to get these files is for someone to actually infiltrate the X Regiment and gain their trust. Because both the X and M Regiments have been assigned to seek out Le Diable Blanc, this paved the way for our dear Remy to join their ranks. The last thing Xavier would suspect is for Le Diable Blanc to be among them."

&lt;Which brings us back to the point I was makin' earlier. By what you've just done, yer 'ave literally thrown Remy into the lion's den!&gt;

"Infiltratin' the X Regiment won't be a problem for me. Done dese t'ings before, mais..." Remy turned again to his superior. "...Should I still continue Diable's activities?"

"But of course! We need that thieving knave to keep everyone distracted now, don't we."

&lt;That's impossible! Remy can't be in two places at once!&gt;

"It won't be easy, Monsieur," Remy could not help but muse as well. "Besides, dere's Captain Logan. De homme's a sharp one."

"But, as you said, he seems interested in you." A sly smile went up the corners of Essex's lips. "As much as it pains me to do so, if you find it necessary so that we could acquire those documents, I permit you to seduce Captain Wolverine." Remy nearly choked at that statement. "I'm aware of the fact that the Captain has been devoid of companionship ever since his wife died. Use your formidable charm on him to make him happy...and compliant."

&lt;Remy is not a whore!&gt; Jono yelled indignantly, his fingers moving up to his face to pull down his bandages. Remy's firm hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Jono, don'! I must do dis!" Looking straight into his superior's eyes, Remy replied, "As you command, Monsieur."

Furious at the other man's submissiveness, Jono jerked his hand out of Remy's grasp. Peeking outside the window to avoid looking at the pained expression on Remy's face, he saw that they were rolling up the driveway of Wyndgate Manor. As the carriage stopped, he saw Sabretooth jump down. At once, a devilish thought crossed his mind.

&lt;I suppose I should be thankful tha' it's Captain Logan. He seems like a decent bloke...not like somebody I know,&gt; He glowered pointedly at Essex, who was simply ignoring him. &lt;Better him than Creed, eh? Remy, yer should've let me blast 'im earlier instead of givin' up yer arse to him.&gt;

Essex, who had opened the carriage door and was about to descend, stopped at once with his booted foot on the top step. "Creed did WHAT?"

At that moment, an unwitting Creed was about to walk by to tend to the horses. Reaching for the Marauder, Essex underwent a startling transformation, his body slowly being encased by an elaborate dark blue armor from his feet to the arching black metal ribbons that was its cape. His red eyes, as well as the diamond on his brow, flashed brightly as he grabbed his underling by the collar of his coat.

"A word with you for a moment, Sabretooth," Essex, now transformed into his true visage of Mister Sinister, hissed in undisguised fury.

Sabretooth was at first confused by the rage that was directed at him by his superior. But then, he saw the two young men still sitting inside the carriage. Remy was visibly horrified. The same could not be said for Jono. The boy was staring at him with sheer hatred. He even pulled the bandages down his face a bit to reveal the sparking, crackling maelstrom of raw psionic power hidden beneath.

&lt;That'll teach ya to keep yer filthy paws to yerself!&gt; Jono's angry declaration filledCreed's mind as Sinister dragged him inside the glowing tesseract and disappeared.

Pleased with himself, Jono jumped down from the carriage, not even bothering to use the steps. But then, Remy's hand grabbed his arm and whirled him around.

"What've ya done?" Remy demanded furiously. "Are ya stupid to make an enemy of Sabretooth? You don' know what dat homme is capable of!"

Jono yanked his arm free. &lt;Creed is nothin'! I'm no' afraid o' him! Let 'im try to get to me! I'll take that bugger to the grave with me! Just one blast an'...&gt;

The young man let out a mental gasp as Remy's palm connected with his cheek. Panting heavily, Remy mumbled, "Don't ya dare say dat to me again! Don' ya dare think o' killin' yerself!"

Jono straightened up and rounded on Gambit. Tears of frustration were filling his brown eyes. &lt;An' what would yer 'ave me do, eh? Do yer even know how it felt for me to just stand there an' watch while that bastard...&gt;

"If ya had obeyed Essex an' me and just stayed here, I wouldn' 'ave been forced to do dat! Ya're just as much to blame for what happened!"

&lt;I was worried about yer, Remy.&gt;

"An' I tol' ya, I can take care o' myself! Merde, Jono! Ya don' know what Essex is like when he's in a jealous rage. Have ya even thought about what de homme might do to _me_ after he's done with Sabretooth?"

&lt;I...I'm sorry. I wasn't thinkin' straight an'...&gt;

"Non! You weren't thinkin' at all!" Out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw Scalphunter rein his horse to a halt. "John, mon ami, would ya mind escortin' dis hothead back to de suite an' make sure dat he stays there?"

Grey Crow noticed the strained air between the two men. "No, I don't mind. Did something happen?"

"I hope nothin' _will_ happen," Remy replied gruffly. "Take Jono inside, s'il vous plait. Need to clear my head a bit. I'm sure Essex will be needin' me."

Gambit was thinking about going for a stroll in the garden to calm his nerves, but Jono's plaintive mind voice reached him. &lt;Remy, please. I'm really sorry. Please don' go to him.&gt;

"As if I 'ave a choice now do I," Remy said bitterly, not even bothering to look back as Scalphunter led the distraught young man inside the mansion.

For several minutes, he remained standing on the now empty driveway, his body fraught with tension. Some measure of release was in order.

Pulling out a card from the pocket of his waistcoat, Remy charged it with kinetic energy. The King of Spades glowed with a pink light. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into a bush just as Blockbuster was riding by on his horse. Leaves and earth went flying as the card exploded. Frightened by the blast, the horse reared up and threw the Marauder off the saddle.

Blockbuster – sitting on his behind on the pavement – waved an angry fist at the thief. "What was that all about, Gambit? I ought to wring your scrawny neck!"

But Remy ignored his comrade's ranting. Stretching his arms above his head, he mumbled. "Dat felt better...un peu."

If he were to be honest with himself, however, he was still very nervous. The last thing he wanted was to be with Essex when he was in such an incensed state. Then again, there was no telling what Sinister might do if he failed to make his nightly appearance at his bedchamber. Remy patted his aching bottom. He could only hope that his superior would not be so rough with him.

Shrugging in defeat, Remy turned on his heels and entered the manor, heading straight for the private bath. He stripped off his dress uniform, socks and boots, laying them on the bench. Padding into the cubicle, he slid the wooden door shut behind him.

Scalphunter had devised a system of pipes that would deliver water to parts of the manor. With just a twist of an ivory knob on the wall, warm water began to pour upon him from the open mouth of a gargoyle above his head. Remy worked up a luxurious lather on his body with the cake of lavender-scented soap that was conveniently left for him on a porcelain dish. He scrubbed his body briskly with a washcloth, removing every trace of Creed on his skin. But inside, he could still feel the slickness of Sabretooth's spoor.

Remy's eyes fell upon the length of tubing that he uses to cleanse his insides. His channel, however, was torn and raw; it would not take such a forceful cleansing. Instead, he bent forward and parted the mounds of his behind with his hands. Positioning his bottom beneath the stream, he let the warm water sluice through the crack in between, washing away the semen and flecks of blood.

Deeming himself sufficiently clean, Remy stepped out of the bath. He saw that his uniform had been taken away. Left in its place were a large fluffy towel, a white linen nightshirt, a robe and a pair of slippers. He let out an embarrassed sigh. Even the servants were very much aware of his nightly activities. Not wanting to keep Sinister waiting, Remy quickly dried his body and slipped on the nightshirt and robe. His long hair he left sleek and moist. Sinister had remarked on a few occasions that he resembled a fiery-haired siren. Perhaps if he maintained such a sensuous allure, he could lull his superior officer into a languid coupling.

Remy padded through the candle-lit hallways of the manor. Despite the dim lighting, his inhuman eyes were accustomed to the dark and he made his way towards the marble staircase. One by one, he took the steps with ever increasing reluctance as he ascended to the third floor where Sinister's chambers were located. Just as he was nearing the suite, the oak doors banged open and Sabretooth was blasted into the corridor by a beam of red light. As the man crumbled to the floor, Remy was shocked to see the bleeding slashes and welts on Creed's body through the tears of his clothes.

Then, Sinister himself strode out into the hallway with sword in hand. Briefly, his angry red eyes met Remy's startled orbs. Turning back to Sabretooth, he raised his sword with the clear intention of lopping off the dazed Marauder's head.

"NON!" Remy cried as he ran towards the older man. With both hands, he stayed Sinister's sword. "S'il vous plait, Monsieur! Ayez pitie!"

For almost a full minute, Remy's pleading eyes locked with Sinister's furious gaze. Then, to his relief, Sinister reluctantly lowered his sword.

To Sabretooth, he declared, "It's only because of Gambit that I spare your miserable life. But next time... Keep your filthy hands off my property!" He waved his sword in the direction of the staircase. "Now, get out of my sight!"

With agonizing slowness, Creed picked himself up from the floor. Remy was about to mouth an apology, but stopped, seeing the contained fury in his eyes. Silently, Sabretooth limped away, favoring his aching side, and left the two men alone.

Remy pried the sword out of Sinister's grip with great care. "Merci, Monsieur." Taking the Colonel's arm, he urged, "Come inside now. Let me take care o' ya."

That was all the invitation Sinister needed. He swept Remy into his arms and inside his chamber, claiming the younger man's lips in a covetous, bruising kiss. At the same time, he dispelled his frightening mien for his human persona.

Remy clung tightly to Essex, his long legs wrapping around the Colonel's trim waist. He opened his mouth willingly to be plundered by a fleshy tongue. Eager hands crawled under his nightshirt to caress his bare skin. With graceful undulations, he thrust his crotch again and again at the growing hardness between Essex's legs. With each sinuous move, he let his empathy engulf the older man in wave upon wave of desire and passion, knowing that – deprived as he was of the emotions that come with being human – Essex would succumb to the sensual onslaught.

However, in a tiny, tightly shielded portion of his mind, Remy's soul shuddered with sheer revulsion. It was this soul that held on to the promise of a single goal.

_Bear it an' endure!_ his soul cried out determinedly. _You're doin' dis for Jono. All for Jono. So dat he'll be healed._

If Essex, who was a powerful telepath, detected that miniscule thought in his subordinate's mind, instead of combing through those silken auburn tresses, his fingers would have tightened around Gambit's neck. Starved for human pleasure, however, he allowed his entire being to be swamped by the heated emotions emanating from the younger man, blissfully unaware that they were false.

Remy could have given Essex the complete satisfaction and satiation he craved. A tiny kiss, a soft gasp or moan, whispered words of praise for the man's sexual prowess...seductive suggestions that would further bloat Essex's ego and convince him of the fact that he was an exceptional lover. The pain in his tender bottom, though, demanded that he not keep up the pretense.

When Essex pushed him against the wall and a blunt finger entered his puckered opening, Remy could not stop the whimper that escaped from his lips. The Colonel froze instantly, his finger still buried deep within the younger man.

"He hurt you," was his emotionless statement.

Remy could not lie. "Oui," was his simple answer, standing precariously on tiptoe to keep Essex's digit from plunging deeper.

"Did he come inside you?"

"Oui, Monsieur."

"And...did you cleanse yourself?"

Blushing, Remy lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Desole, Monsieur, mais non. I'm afraid he tore me up inside an'..."

Essex withdrew his hand abruptly, and Remy winced as a sharp fingernail scraped his channel. "I will not take you with your body filled with another man's spoor," Essex said in disgust. Remy nearly jumped out of his skin when the Colonel suddenly drove his fist into the wall, a mere inch from his cheek. "I should've killed the bastard!"

"Don' be angry, Monsieur." Remy slowly went down on his knees, his hands caressing Essex's hips before sliding to the front of his trousers. With dexterous fingers, he undid the buttons one by one. "Let me give ya pleasure some other way, oui?" As the older man's erection broke free from it confines, Remy caught it in his hands, cradling it gently. "Ahh, just de way Gambit likes it."

Essex let out a lusty moan as Remy licked up and down the veined length while his thumb played with the fleshy fold of skin at the tip. Descending, he let the tip of his tongue flick the foreskin and then, pulling it back to expose the crimson head, licked the slit, which was oozing with drops of cloudy white man cream.

"Ya taste good, Monsieur," Remy lied huskily. In truth, the Colonel's seed tasted foul and bitter, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to quell the heaving of his stomach.

Then, brutal fingers gripped his hair, jerking his head painfully back. "Enough of the teasing, boy," Essex muttered in gruff impatience. "You're right. If I can't have your sweet ass, your mouth would do just fine."

"Den, what are ya waitin' for?"

Remy managed to breathe in deeply before Essex sank his full length deeply down his throat. Closing his eyes, he allowed his throat muscles to relax to accommodate the frenzied thrusting. The sudden tightening of the balls slapping on his face told him that Essex was on the brink.

_Bien,_ he thought in relief. This was going much faster than he thought. _Not too long now._

With a grunt, Essex shot his juices into the younger man's mouth. Remy mechanically gulped down every drop. As Essex withdrew, he wiped away the trickle of come from the corner of his lover's mouth with his thumb.

Standing, Remy placed his hands on Essex's waist. "Venez, Monsieur. Let's sleep. I know you're tired."

Surprisingly, Essex shook his head with visible regret. "No, not tonight. My research awaits me."

"Is it about Jono?"

"Yes. His condition is a difficult and delicate one. But, since you have been serving me very well, I've been doing all I can."

Remy did not have to use his charm to know that the man was lying. However, what choice did he have? Only Essex has the clinical expertise to help Jono.

"Den, I shall retire now, My Lord," he said, bowing. "I shall awaken early for my rendezvous with Monsieur Logan."

He was about to leave the chamber. As he opened the door, Essex's voice stopped him. "I don't need to warn you about Captain Logan. He is a very dangerous man, so tread carefully."

Remy nodded. "Oui, Monsieur. I'll remember that."

"And...don't ever make the mistake of giving your heart to him, Remy. Never forget whom you belong to."

"Oui, Monsieur."

At that admonition, Remy walked out into the corridor, closing the door behind him. Rather than wait for Essex to change his mind, he all but ran to the suite that he shared with Jono. Dashing inside the room, he pushed the door shut.

Jono was sitting on the windowsill, waiting for him, also dressed in a nightshirt. His brown eyes grew round at the sight of Remy's disheveled state. &lt;Remy? Wha...&gt;

Remy did not reply. Instead, he ran to the small bathroom and retched into a basin. He did not stop vomiting until he had thrown up Essex's foul seed that he had imbibed. In his anguish and disgust, at first, he did not feel the gentle hand that was rubbing his back. From the corner of his eye, he saw a tin cup.

&lt;Here. Wash yer mouth with this.&gt;

With trembling hand, Remy took the offered cup. The smell of peppermint wafted from the water within. Gratefully, he washed and rinsed his mouth until the sour taste was gone.

Jono helped him to his feet and held on to him as though he were a fragile crystal. He then escorted him over to the bed. As Remy lay down, the younger man too settled on the soft mattress, facing him.

&lt;Was it that bad, Remy?&gt; Jono asked in a tiny mind voice.

"Non," Remy answered truthfully. "I should be thankful dat he did not take me. I guess I owe Creed one."

Jono closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory of what happened earlier that evening.

Sabretooth's derisive laughter as he hinted, "Essex has big plans for our Gambit. Somethin' that would greatly benefit you, boy."

_"What're you doin' here?" Remy's shocked exclamation upon seeing him on horseback only a short distance away from the Summers estate._

_Hiding in a shadowed copse in Lady Jean Summers' garden. "If ya don't want me tellin' Essex about how the boy sneaked over here, ya'd better make it worth my while."_

_Gasping in horror as Remy soundlessly bent forward, hands clawing at the tree trunk before him, while Sabretooth..._

_But in the end, Remy thought it wiser to inform Essex about Jono's unwanted presence at Graymalkin._

 

Tears shimmered in Jono's eyes as he sobbed guiltily, &lt;I'm sorry, Remy. This is all my fault. The last thing I wanted is for yer to get hurt 'cause of me.&gt;

Remy smiled with tender regret as he brushed away a stray lock from Jono's brow with his fingertip, before going down to the dark bruise on the high cheekbone above his bandages. "You were worried about me. I un'erstand. An' I'm sorry I lost my temper an' hit ya. Mais, you must un'erstand why ya must stay here at de mansion an' not go runnin' about in de city."

&lt;I do understand, Remy. How could I forget...the terrifying circumstances...when yer found me? I even thought you were one o' those who were chasin' me. Yer brought me out o' that hell. But, after what Creed tol' me, I couldn' just sit on my arse in this room an' do nothin'. I had to find out what Essex was up to an' warn yer about it.&gt; Jono added remorsefully. &lt;I let my temper get away wi' me 'gain, an' 'cause of it, got yer into trouble as well. Remy, I'm so, so sorry.&gt;

"No harm done. I'm used to it." Jono was about to argue but Remy placed a quieting finger over his lips. "At dis rate, we'll be apologizin' to each other de whole night." He decided to change the topic. "So...tell me. What did ya think o' de party?"

Remy pitied the younger man. Because of his bizarre malady, Jono was confined to Wyndgate Manor. The boy had not had any contact with others since they arrived in London.

&lt;Can't say,&gt; Jono said honestly. &lt;I was too busy spyin' on Essex an' Sabretooth. But...&gt;

"Mais?" Remy urged him to continue

&lt;I met this rather interesting bloke,&gt; the younger man admitted. &lt;Actually, he surprised me in the garden while I was peeking through the window an' I slipped from the ceramic mushroom I was standin' on an' fell on my hiney. Tried to make it up to me though. He must've stolen every scrap o' food from the buffet an' offered it to me. Uh...yer know I can' eat, but he was bein' so nice an' all, I decided to get this instead.&gt;

From inside his nightshirt, Jono produced the candy posey and handed it to Remy. Remy understood Jono's dilemma.

"Do ya want to know what it tastes like?" he asked grinning.

&lt;Yes, please.&gt;

Opening his shields, Remy took the posey and bit into the candy, savoring its sweetness. He slowly ate the candy flowers, giving Jono enough time to enjoy it through the link they shared.

Jono said blissfully, &lt;It's very sweet. Delicious...&gt;

"Don' worry," Remy reassured him. "I promise ya. Soon, you'll be able to eat and drink again."

&lt;But...at what cost is it goin' to be to yer?&gt;

"Don' think about it, Petit. I'll do anythin' to make ya better.&gt; Remy leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jono's brow. "Now, I know ya probably hadn' slept a wink since I've been gone for three days. Close your eyes so ya can share my sleep."

The two men held each other in a warm embrace. A mental yawn went through Remy's mind as Jono snuggled up to him. &lt;Je t'aime, Remy. Je t'aime beaucoup afin.&gt;

"Je t'aime aussi, Petit."

 

**CONTINUED IN CHAPTER THREE**

**TRANSLATION:**

Merci = Thank you.

Mais = But

Oui = Yes

Je suis desole. = I am sorry.

Homme = Man

Merde = Crap!/Shit!

Non! = No!

S'il vous plait = Please

Un peu = A bit

Ayez pitie! = Have mercy!

Bien = Good

Venez, Monsieur. = Come, sir.

Je t'aime beaucoup afin. = I love you so much.

Je t'aime aussi = I love you too.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

It was a good hour and a half before cock crow when Logan rose from his bunk. He grinned in sleepy satisfaction as he glanced at his gold pocket watch, which he had placed on the night table. The last thing he wanted was to be subjected to the X Regiment's rather bizarre, and sometimes, scandalous wake-up calls. A grumpy Wolverine was a scary Wolverine, and he definitely did not want to frighten off a certain alluring lieutenant from the rival regiment.

Soft giggles from the other bunk caught his attention. Robert Drake had kicked his blanket to the foot end. Dressed only in a linen nightshirt, his bare arms and legs were wrapped tightly around a large goosedown pillow, a dreamy grin on his face. Logan did not know whether he should be disgusted or amused at the sight of the drool that trickled from the corner of the boy's open mouth. Already, there was a large patch of wetness on Drake's poor pillow.

"Jono..." Bobby wheedled between giggles. "If you're not going to eat that piece of cake, I'm going to peel those bandages off ya and eat _you_ like a banana."

A warm smile curled up Logan's lips as he gazed down at the younger man. Ever since Drake had been assigned to him, his exuberant subordinate had not been fortunate in the relationships he'd had so far.

"You're always acting like a child, Bobby! When are you going to grow up?" These are the common complaints that Logan had heard from his lieutenant's erstwhile female companions.

It has always been Logan's hope that the cheerful young man would find someone special. They lead dangerous, uncertain lives, and he knew from personal experience how important it is for a soldier to have someone to love and who would also love him back. Judging from the happy expression on Bobby's face, it looked like the lieutenant had finally found that special someone and, judging from the name he had whispered, it was easy to deduce that Bobby was enamored with another man.

_Maybe that's why you've been so unlucky with the ladies,_ Logan mused wistfully.

The Captain's mind wandered back to the party. The X Regiment was a small outfit to begin with. He did not recall seeing any new faces among the officers last night, certainly not someone with bandages. Still...

"Looks like I'm not the only one who got lucky last night," Logan murmured softly.

Suddenly, the peace was shattered by an ear-piercing shriek that rattled the windows with near breaking force. Logan clapped his hands over his ears to shut out that deafening wail. Drake's reaction, however, was dramatic.

Because he joined the regiment in the Americas, Drake was completely oblivious to the quirky routine of the X Regiment, and to his horror, Logan realized that he had completely forgotten to brief his subordinate about what to expect due to all the activity that they were swept up in the minute they arrived in England.

Having been trained by Wolverine to act swiftly and instinctively against any threat, Bobby tumbled out of bed, his blue eyes still glazed from the idyllic slumber he had been so rudely roused out of.

"BOBBY, NO!" Logan shouted as Bobby pressed his hands flat on the floorboards.

 

 

"Hooowee! Who'd ever thought I could do this, eh, Captain?"

Logan glowered at Bobby who was whistling proudly beside him. Beholding his lieutenant's handiwork though, he had to admit – albeit grudgingly – that he was impressed.

The X Regiment barracks were composed of three large rectangular wood and brick buildings surrounding a broad training field. The building that the two men exited from was encased from top to bottom with solid ice. Poor soldiers stumbled out of the building, their uniforms wet and rumpled, their lips blue and teeth chattering.

"Who's the bloody fool who did this?" a young girl with the name of Wolfsbane embroidered on the lapel of her training coat demanded.

"Sorry! My fault!" Bobby crowed, not the least bit apologetic.

"Don't worry! I'll fix it!" another boy called out, proceeding to melt the ice with powerful beams shooting out of his closed fists. The boy himself became totally black, surrounded by an eerie red and black aura.

_This must be Sunspot,_ thought Logan, as he identified each of the youngsters who marched angrily out of their respective barracks based on the descriptions that his fellow officers had given him.

One young officer emerged from the frozen building, his whole body completely encased in shiny metal.

"Piotr!" Logan greeted his fellow captain known as Colossus. "It's so good to see you again!"

"And it is good to see you as well." Logan was expecting Piotr Nikoleivitch Rasputin to give him a big hug that was his wont when reunited with a friend. Instead, Piotr settled for a handshake. To Logan, the younger man seemed somewhat aloof towards him. Probably sensing the confusion in his comrade, Piotr added, "I'm sorry that I was not at the party to greet you. But I had a pressing...personal...matter to attend to."

"Is it about Illyana?" Logan remembered that Piotr's younger sister, who was heavily dabbling in magick, was slowly succumbing to the dark side. "She is well I hope."

"Oh, Illyana is just fine, my friend," Piotr said, smiling, recalling how much the older man cared for his little sister. "She has been placed in Kurt Wagner's platoon. I'm sure you know that Kurt is also serving as the resident priest for the X Regiment. He has taken it upon himself to mentor Illyana as well as the other youngsters who have a talent for the magical arts. I'm glad that Kurt has been a positive influence on Illyana." He glanced back at the frozen building he had just escaped from. "I see that you've been quite an influence on your young subordinate as well."

Logan could only groan as Bobby gave Piotr a wide grin and a snappy salute.

"You're battle-ready this morning, Piotr," Logan remarked, eyeing the glistening armor.

"Nyet. I had no choice but to change," Piotr answered with a shake of his head. "Drake there froze all my good underpants." To Bobby, he growled albeit with a lack of menace, "Tovarisch, I wish I could give you a medal for your promptness in action, but..."

Bobby quickly wagged his hands. "Oh, no! No medals! Just doing my duty as a good soldier."

"He meant that as sarcasm, Drake," Logan said, grimacing.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I must see to my men." With this, Piotr marched off. To Logan's amusement, the Russian was met by Lady Emma Frost's triplets. Called the Stepford Cuckoos for some derogatory reason, the three blondes were practically tripping themselves over Colossus.

"Captain, sir," one of them was shining hearts from her eyes. "You will be changing out of armor later, right?"

"In your dreams, ladies," Piotr laughed. "In your dreams."

A nudge of an elbow drew Logan's attention towards a beaming Drake. "Captain, are they really going to give me a medal?"

Before the gruff captain could utter a contradictory retort, an irate yell of "BOBBY DRAKE!" came from the second floor. A furious Major Warren Worthington – who had been trapped inside his room – swooped down from his defrosted window. Grabbing Bobby by the collar of his coat, he gave the younger man a fierce throttling.

"How about I throw you in the brig, Bobby?" Angel snarled between gnashing teeth. During their mission to the Americas to rescue Wolverine, Warren had developed a brotherly kind of friendship towards Drake.

"Now, calm down, Warren," Storm approached her fellow officers. "Although his actions were...extreme, I think Bobby did quite well by encasing your barracks in ice. The ice walls are so thick I don't think a cannonball could blow it up. Even Sunspot is having difficulty melting it."

As Warren reluctantly let poor Bobby drop choking to the ground, a yawning Major Scott Summers went up to them. "Well, I'm not pinning the blame on Robert here. I want to find out who's the lunatic who made that reveille."

Logan cocked his bushy eyebrows up. "_That_ was reveille?"

Scott ignored his friend, irritated as he was. "I expressly ordered that there won't be any training exercises today because everyone's tired from the party last night."

In answer to his remark, a booming voice rang out, "You call yourselves soldiers of the X Regiment? Disgraceful! No wonder the M regiment is getting all the acclaim! What'll you do in the battlefield? Wait for the enemy to come and slaughter you in your sleep?"

Everyone turned glaring eyes towards the stern figure in pristine uniform standing with legs spread on the platform.

Warren let out a groan. Thumbing in the direction of Nathan Christopher Grey-Summers, he grumbled, "That's your son up there, Summers."

Exasperated, Scott was about to scratch his head, only to end up knocking off his powdered wig. "Aargh! I forgot that his platoon is scheduled to do the reveille and lead the training exercises today."

"And like the good soldier that he is, he chose to disobey your order and decided to push through with the exercises this morning." Storm gave Scott a knowing glance. "Reminds me of his father when he was younger."

"I wasn't that obsessed with training, Storm," Scott readily countered. "Actually, he has a special reason for disregarding my orders."

"Oh? And what's that?"

They again looked at Captain Grey-Summers, who was more popularly known as Cable among his troops. Although the young man's head was facing forward, his eyes would often drift in the direction of Wolverine.

"Great! Just great!" Warren exclaimed. "That boy worships the ground Wolverine walks on. He'll do anything to make a good impression on his godfather."

Logan, however, could not help but beam with pride. The last time he saw his godchild, Nathan was still a toddler who was diligently aping his beloved uncle's every move. Now, the young man held the same military rank as he. But his meteoric rise through the ranks of the X Regiment was not without its price. According to Jean, the boy lost his arm in a cannon blast so that a special metal arm was built for him to replace the limb which he had lost.

Scott was not happy to have his anticipated free day with his beloved wife ruined by his only son. Before everyone could even blink, the Earl of Graymalkin stumbled up the platform steps in a rush, and grabbed his poor son's ears.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Nathan yelped as he squirmed in his father's grip. "Papa, don't embarrass me in front of my men!"

"Once in a blue moon Colonel Xavier gives us a day off," Scott growled at his flesh and blood. "Do you know that your mother and I have special plans today?"

Having noticed the squirming figure that was slowly stepping backwards away from the angry father and his son, Warren flew up to the platform and, landing behind him, halted his fellow officer's stealthy retreat.

"Major Cassidy," Warren began in ominous tones to the superior officer of the X Regiment's Irish platoon, "correct me if I'm mistaken, but it was you who woke us all up with that horrendous wail, am I right?"

Major Sean Cassidy, codenamed Banshee, grinned sheepishly as he scratched his head. "Sarry, Warren. I'm afraid I was no' given any choice in the matter."

"And why not?" Angel exclaimed in outrage. "Nathan's just a captain. You're his superior for heaven's sake!"

But then, a pretty young girl with her short blonde hair tied up into two ponytails sidled up to them. Pointing to Cassidy with her thumb, she whispered conspiratorially, "I know...things...about him."

Warren gaped aghast at the flustered Irishman. "Sean, you should be ashamed yourself! How could you let yourself be intimidated by this petty blackmailer?"

"I'm no' losin' my beloved Moira because o' any sordid information this wee lassie may know abou' me!" Cassidy retorted back.

Angel was about to offer a rebuke, but then, the girl elbowed him slightly in the belly and muttered, "I know stuff about you too, sir." Warren blanched instantly at that insinuation and shut his mouth.

Seeing the two rather guilty-looking men, Storm doubled over with laughter. Wolverine looked at his friend quizzically, the expression on his face only causing the Weather Goddess to laugh even harder.

"What am I missing here?" Logan was eventually forced to ask.

Wiping away the tears of merriment from her eyes, Ororo took a deep breath to bring her giggles under control. "I forgot that you've been gone for so long that you don't know of the developments in the regiment. You see, Logan, Colonel Xavier's latest recruits happen to be youngsters with dubious personalities and backgrounds, and they haven't been...ideal...soldiers. The few youngsters who have been placed under my command are – I have to admit – quite a trial on my nerves."

Logan gaped at Storm in surprise. The Weather Goddess was the epitome of patience, grace and other virtues. To hear this admission from her meant that these new recruits were trouble indeed.

"Anyway, it was Charles' idea to have the more...stubborn...youngsters placed under Nathan's command," Storm continued. "At that time, he was already a sergeant. Charles figured that these youngsters would be more...compliant...if they're led by someone close to their own age. And, indeed, his plan worked, although...."

"Let me guess," Logan remarked with a knowing grin. "Being headstrong himself, Nathan is also a questionable leader because he has this penchant for defying authority, and..." He glanced at the smirking little blonde. "...I reckon he'll employ any means to accomplish what he has set out to do. I suppose she's one of them."

"You're correct. Private Layla Miller's her name. The Colonel has yet to confirm what her true powers are, but I must say that girl has amazing perception. When Layla says she knows things, you can mark my words, she is not lying."

"Making her quite an effective little blackmailer."

"To be sure." Storm caught the approach of several figures out of the corner of her eye. "Here comes the rest of Nathan's group now."

If Nathan was counting on his platoon to look impressive for his beloved godfather, he was sorely mistaken. Each soldier – male and female – were clearly unprepared and unwilling to participate in any training exercises. One Oriental-looking girl with short, spiky black hair was still wearing her nightgown tucked haphazardly into her trousers.

Another girl with outlandishly colored hair waved an angry fist. "What's the big idea, Cable? The first beauty sleep I get in ages, and you ruin it. My God! I looked myself in the mirror and I'm quite a fright!"

"Don't let it bother you, Boomer," a pretty brunette with a yawning dragon perched on her left shoulder said in mock reassurance. "You've always looked ghastly to everyone."

Boomer harrumphed snootily and crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not funny, Kitty!"

"Why are you all whining and complaining?" someone declared out load. "We're all soldiers in the service of His Majesty! Is it not our duty to be always vigilant and prepared to defend our homeland? More so the whole lot of you with special powers! Aren't you the least bit ashamed that we who are normal are more battle ready than you?"

It was only then that Logan noticed the two platoons of soldiers in well-pressed uniforms neatly lined up. Standing at the fore was a handsome dark brown skinned young man. From his accent, he was either a Spaniard or a Mexican.

"Wait! Is that young Julio Esteban Richter?" Logan asked Ororo, suddenly recognizing the boy he had found in Mexico and whom he had promptly shipped to England upon discovering that he had the ability to create strong vibrations.

Storm nodded. "Yes, but as you can see, Rictor has lost his powers. It was a strange thing. He just woke up one morning without his powers. Up to now, we don't know what caused the change. Poor Julio, however, was heartbroken. He was going to leave the X Regiment, but his lover Gaveedra Seven – known in military circles as Shatterstar – stopped him from doing so, saying that he could still accomplish much in the X Regiment. With the approval of General Nicholas Fury, the two men formed the Shield Company. With the exception of Shatterstar, the entire Shield Company is composed of ordinary young men. While their special counterparts take the frontlines, they act to fortify defenses and assist in tending to the medical needs of the wounded."

Sure enough, Shatterstar took his place beside his lover. Waving two sharp double bladed swords at the disgruntled soldiers, he shouted, "Just because you have special powers does not excuse you from shirking your duties! What say you, men of Shield Company! What is your duty?"

"To defend people and country!" the men crowed back.

"And how do we do that?"

"We dig trenches!"

"And what do we do with those trenches?"

"Fill 'em up with the stinkin' carcasses o' the Frenchies!"

The collective whoops and cheers from Shield Company drowned out the groans of misery from the other members of the X Regiment.

"Merde!" an amused voice spoke behind Logan. "Are we bein' invaded?"

The two officers whirled around to behold a smiling Gambit. Remy LeBeau clicked his boot heels together and gave Wolverine and Storm a perky salute.

"You're very early, Lt. Gambit," Ororo said approvingly. "We weren't expecting you until sunrise."

"Non," Remy shook his head as he relaxed his stance. "I figured Captain Logan would want us to have an early start. So, here I am. Looks like I came just in time. Need my help for anyt'in?"

"No, you stay put right here beside me," Logan waved to the spot at his side, which Gambit gamely took. "You're just in time to watch an X Regiment training exercise. Afterwards, we'll pay a visit to Forge and Henry McCoy."

There was a dubious frown on Remy's face as a full-blown squabble erupted between Nathan's troops and the members of Shield Company. Even Scott, Warren and Sean were arguing with each other. Poor Cable was about to tear his gray hair out from frustration.

"Why oh why didn't I get the men of Shield under me?" Nathan lamented. He turned to a grinning Jamie Madrox. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Madrox!"

But as he raised a hard finger and poked at the other man's shoulder, Madrox disappeared with a soft poof.

"Uh, oh! Madrox used a duplicate to get out of the training exercise again," Storm moaned miserably. "If you'll excuse me, looks like my presence is needed." Saying this, she hurried off to quell the tempers that were simmering to the boiling point.

"Everyone's lookin'..." Remy paused in mid-statement, gaping as Bobby changed into his iceform and retrieved a sleeping Madrox from a third floor window with an ice slide. The slide must have scooped him up from his bed, and he slid down to stop right at a fuming Nathan's feet. Madrox was still clinging to his pillow.

"Lively?" Logan continued, seeing the fascination on Gambit's face. "Well, it certainly is quite an interesting way to start the day."

"'Lively ain't de word I had in mind." The younger officer grimaced as poor Jamie was awakened by a metal hand choking the life out of him. "I was thinkin'...bloodthirsty?"

"And what's M Regiment doin' when ya left?"

"Oh, Colonel Essex gave us de day off. When I left de barracks, Blockbuster was still snorin'. By de way..." Remy looked at the confusing throng before him. "Would ya please tell me who is Robert Drake?"

At the sound of his name, Bobby's head popped up from the middle of a crowd of irate Madrox duplicates. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to make a quick escape, he iceslid over the duplicates and hurried over to them.

"That would be me," Bobby saluted, grinning smugly at the mayhem he had helped instigate. "You must be Lt. Remy LeBeau. The Captain here can't stop talking about you." He let out a pained yelp as a heavy boot heel crunched down on his toes.

Seeing the dark red blush on Logan's face, Remy said in all sincerity, "I'm very happy to hear dat, mon ami. Actually, dere's someone in de M Regiment who can' stop talkin' about you too. He asked me to give ya dis."

Bobby eagerly took the small brown bag that Remy handed to him. "Is this from Jono?" Opening it and reaching inside, a delighted smile cracked his face as his fingers produced a golden piece of cake. As he bit into it, luscious cream icing filled his mouth.

Logan chuckled as Bobby blissfully exclaimed, "Yummy!" He swore that his lieutenant's blue eyes were twinkling with joy and that tiny cherubim were flying around his head and blowing golden trumpets.

"Now, I'm definitely sure that Jono is the one for me." Bobby bowed gratefully to Remy, hugging his bag of precious pastries possessively. "Please do tell Jono that I love his delicious cakes and that I highly look forward to seeing him again."

"I'll be sure to tell him, mon ami," Remy promised. He could understand why Jono was so attracted to this exuberant young man.

Unknown to the three men, some semblance of order was restored among the grumbling soldiers of the X Regiment and were now lined up for parade drills. But Nathan was not particularly pleased, especially when he saw that the focus of his beloved godfather's attention was the charming auburn-haired lieutenant from the rival regiment. He began to bark out orders to the marching troops, but still keeping one eye peeled on Logan. Pretty soon, he was taking out his growing frustrations on his men.

"Damn it, Lee! Don't you know your right from your left?"

"My brain hasn't woken up yet, sir!"

"Espinosa! Stop dragging your skin!"

"Sorry, amigo! My skin is still asleep!"

"Shatterstar..."

A flash of a sharp sword's edge. "Is there a problem?"

Nathan was about to utter a retort when a yawning Samuel Guthrie trundled past him with a papoose on his back. A determined little girl of five was stomping her feet in marching rhythm close behind him. Fluttering after them was a sweet faced little cherub of a year and half with dark brown hair and wings. The winged toddler obviously escaped from Sam's papoose.

"Halt! HALT!" Cable cried as he tromped over to face the younger officer. Waving to the children, he demanded, "Lieutenant Guthrie! What is this?"

"Today was supposed to be our day off, Nathan," Sam answered with dry resentment, deliberately foregoing respect for a superior officer. "Mama asked me if Ah could take care o' the youngins' an' Ah said yes. How'd I know you'd hold drills this mornin'? Ah'm not leavin' my li'l sister an' baby brother in a frozen barracks."

Remy's heart reached out to those two somber youngsters. The girl stood as straight as a post like a good soldier. But the tiny angel was struggling to hold back his tears.

"Don' worry, homme. I'll be happy to take care o' de little ones while ya're doin' drills," he called out to Guthrie. With a wave to the children, he said, "Come 'ere, mes petites!"

That invitation was all the little cherub needed. Bawling, he flew into the open arms of Remy, who cuddled the boy and soothed him with gentle noises.

"You look good with a little kid, Gambit," Logan could not stop himself from commenting. Remy's auburn hair glowed in the rays of the rising sun like a halo. "Bet ya come from a big family."

"I love children, mon capitaine," Remy replied, sorrow crossing his handsome face. "Mais, non, I wish I could say I have a real family. I was...an orphan...and...."

Logan was about to apologize for bringing up a subject that obviously caused the lieutenant pain. But then, both men found themselves staring down at the angry little girl. There was a profound expression of embarrassment on her face as she glared at her baby brother.

"Jay Guthrie, we're supposed to be makin' a good impression here an' ya have to go an' ruin it by actin' like a baby," the girl scolded him.

"Paige, don't you go sassin' Jay, ya hear!" Sam yelled at his sister.

Remy laughed as the angel in his arms stuck his tongue out at his sibling. "An' why is it important dat ya make a good impression, mon fille?" he inquired.

With left arm akimbo, Paige raised her chubby right arm and a closed fist in the air and declared, "Ah'm gonna be an officer in the X Regiment!"

Jay aped his sister's gesture. With a happy gurgle, he lisped, "SHEX!"

"He he he!" Logan could not stop himself from laughing. "Ain'tcha a bit too young for that, kid?"

"Hey, Warren!" Bobby could not stop himself from teasing his friend. Pointing to Jay, he asked, "Is this your son?"

"Shut up, Drake!" Worthington yelled back.

Scott, however, could not help pondering out loud, "You know, I always wondered why little Jay has wings." This earned a smoldering glower from Angel. "Then again, I've always wondered why the Guthrie family has children with different powers."

Sam glared at his Major in grievous affront. Unsheathing his sword, "Sir, are ya implyin' dat ma Mum is a woman of ill repute? Draw your sword!"

This caused tempers to flare up once more. Remy breathed an exasperated sigh and advised the two children. "Now, don' ya two be followin' everyone's example, oui? Good soldiers aren't supposed to act like this."

As Jay pressed his cheek lovingly to Remy's face, Paige nodded grimly, "Ah won't be a terrible officer like them."

That statement caused Nathan to lose his tenuous grip on his temper. "Then perhaps our guest from the M Regiment can give us a demonstration on his efficiency as a good officer and soldier."

"Eh?" Remy's head lifted in surprise. "Now hold on..."

But Cable ignored him. Turning to his troops, who now had devilishly eager gleams in their eyes, he announced, "The soldier who defeats Lt. Gambit here will be given three days off from training exercises."

"Really?" Shatterstar asked, casting an unmistakable lascivious glance at his lover.

"You have to beat him first, Shatty," Rictor reminded him smugly.

"Plus..." Nathan continued, "...he or she will be given a special pass to Forge's Aerie and the added bonus of joining our talented inventor in testing any new weapons he has developed at Arsenal."

"Nathan, you're in no position to make such promises," Scott feebly reminded his son, but to no avail.

Logan found questioning red on black eyes focused on him. "Should I, mon capitaine?" Remy asked doubtfully.

"It's up to you, Cajun," Logan replied, shrugging. "Unless you're not keen on upholding the M Regiment's reputation."

"An' what reputation is dat?" Remy spat back sarcastically. "An' how'd ya know I was a Cajun?"

"Your accent is a dead giveaway. Besides, I helped a number of your people settle down in the Americas when the French government threw them out of Acadia."

"Merci for helpin' my fellow Cajuns then." Handing Jay into Logan's arms, Remy sighed as he took a step forward, a clear sign that he was accepting Nathan's challenge. "I guess dere's no helpin' it den. I suppose we need dat special pass too."

"Nah, I'm a Captain, remember? Privilege of rank. Forge won't have a choice but to see us."

"Still, mon ami, better safe dan sorry, oui?"

Logan's eyes flew wide, seeing Cannonball, Boomer, Jubilee, Shatterstar and a few other soldiers leap at the M Regiment lieutenant. "Look sharp, Gumbo!" he warned.

Gambit, however, had already noticed their surprise attack and merely stood his ground. With a confident grin on his lips, his unearthly demon eyes began to glow a bright pink.

_"Laissez les bons temps rouler!"_

A few minutes later, Logan was blinking in stunned disbelief at the training field, which was now strewn with unconscious bodies. Even Bobby was gaping, a tasty pastry clamped between his lips.

"Hey, homme," Remy was squatting beside a senseless Cannonball and poking him with a small stick. "Is dat all ya got? _Lache pas la patate!_"

In one corner of the field, the men of Shield Company – possibly the only company who had the foresight _not_ to attack the Cajun lieutenant – snickered in their places. Their leaders Rictor and Shatterstar were sitting on a short bench, sipping tea in dainty porcelain cups.

Julio had seen his lover leap into the air to attack Gambit, only to mysteriously drop down to the ground at the last minute, sheathe his swords, and trudge back over to him. He even ordered his valet to bring them some tea and a plateful of scones.

Eyeing the redhead curiously, Rictor inquired, "Gaveedra, weren't you rather keen on winning those three days off? I guess you're not interested in spending more time with me then."

"I _always_ manage to find time to be with you, you know that," Shatterstar replied, winking. "However, I have no intention of fighting a man who will not draw his sword. Then again, if a man chooses not to unsheathe his blade in a melee, the prudent course of action is to pull back and simply observe..." He added with a knowing grin. "...Lest one ends up looking like a fool."

Logan heard Shatterstar's remark, and he was amazed by the young man's perceptiveness. He had to admit that he had been concerned when Remy did not draw his sword against his onrushing attackers. But then, before they could bear down on him, Remy moved...

No, to call what the young lieutenant did as mere movement was an oversimplification. To the Captain's eyes, it was a lively, graceful dance. Remy pirouetted out of the way and leaped over a charging Sunspot, doing a somersault in mid-air. With effortless ease, he eluded attempts to trap him. He twirled on his toes as he dodged explosives and other projectiles thrown his way. All the while that he was doing these evasive maneuvers, he laughed, teased and taunted his attackers.

When his adversaries became impatient and decided to press their attack, Gambit used their powers against them, causing them to turn against each other. The _coup de grace_ fell when Jubilee and Boomer trapped the Cajun between them with their bombs, putting him right in the path of an incoming Cannonball. Before Jubilee could shoot pyrotechnics out of her hands, Remy grabbed her wrist and swung her right into Boomer's arms. He then leapfrogged over a surprised Sam, who barreled into the two girls and a few others who attempted to help. That put a stop to the exercise. Through it all, as Gaveedra had noted, not once did Gambit pull out a weapon. Except for that extraordinary agility, not once did Remy exhibit any special powers.

And yet, Logan knew the younger man held something back. Intense curiosity egged him to see what the boy was truly capable of.

With a snarl, Logan charged forward, the sharp adamantium blades protruding from his knuckles with a 'snikt'. Remy turned at that moment, now drawing both sword and dagger from their sheaths, and their blades connected with a loud clang.

"I see that Essex has you sufficiently armed. Your blades are made from adamantium," he muttered, a dangerous yellow gleam in his eyes, as he tried to push the lieutenant back.

But Gambit dug his feet firmly into the dirt to keep his balance. "Well, de Colonel said dat one should always be prepared, oui? Don' know who you'll meet in de battlefield."

Then, the two men swiftly separated, only to meet in a flurry of lunges and fierce slashes. All watched their duel with interest. Although Logan was an expert fighter, Remy gave as good as he got, flicking back Wolverine's claws with swipes of sword and dagger. When their blades locked once more, everyone waited with bated breath to see who would emerge triumphant.

With savage twists of his wrists, Logan wrenched the weapons out of Gambit's hands. At that same moment, Remy swept a long leg forward in an arc to knock Wolverine's feet right from under him. As Remy's sword and dagger fell point first to the ground, Logan landed on his behind at the younger man's feet. For a few minutes, the two men stared at each other, chests heaving from their ragged pants.

A wide grin cracked Logan's face. "Not bad, kid. Not bad. But I could tell. The sword is not your weapon of choice."

"Why do you say dat, mon ami?" Remy asked, smiling as well.

"You were making compensatory adjustments to the distance between us, like you are unsure of the lengths of the weapons you are using," the Captain stated his observations. "I'd say that the weapon you prefer to use is much longer than a sword."

Gambit bent down and offered his right hand. "But still, my swordsmanship is not dat back, oui?"

Taking that hand, Logan let the boy pull him to his feet. "Nope, not bad at all." He turned to his godson who was frothing at the mouth at the sight of his precious troops so soundly defeated by an unarmed man. "Don't be too hard on your men, Nathan. Even though they lost this one, they are quite a talented little bunch. You've done well with them, son."

Cable noted the sincerity in his godfather's words as he approached them, his cheeks flushed bright red. "Not well enough, I'm afraid, but I do my best, Uncle Logan."

"Well, don't work yourself too hard," Logan patted the boy's shoulder. "Your hair is completely gray. You look older than I am."

Despite himself, Nathan grinned at his men, who were slowly and painfully picking themselves up from the ground. "If you're with this lousy bunch, you can't help but age quickly." He looked at Remy, who was being bussed again and again on the cheek by a delighted Jay Guthrie. "Here you go, Lt. Gambit," Nathan handed the two passes. "You earned them. As much as I hate to say this but, for an M Regiment officer, you fight fair. I never thought honor still existed among Colonel Essex's men."

Remy graciously accepted the passes. "I don' think I'm worthy of such high praise, but all de same, merci beaucoup."

It was Gambit's turn to blush as his efforts were rewarded by modest applause from the men of X Regiment. Brushing off his abashment, however, Remy proceeded to grant his audience cavalier bows.

With a roll of his eyes upwards, Logan grabbed the younger man by the back of his coat and began dragging him away. He only paused to pick up Gambit's sword and dagger.

"Come on, Cajun," Logan chucked, hearing Remy's feeble protests about not having acknowledged his admirers enough. "I don't want ya gettin' a swelled head."

"No chance o' dat happenin', mon capitaine. My head's big enough already." When they were outside the training area, Gambit straightened up, taking his weapons from the older man and sheathing them in their scabbards. "Jokin' aside, bein' an officer in de M Regiment can be quite a humblin' experience. Colonel Essex don't like insubordination among his officers. He will punish you if ya ever dare contradict him."

Logan looked at the lieutenant in sudden concern. "Has Essex ever punished you?"

"Oh, it's nothin' dat Gambit don' deserve. Don' worry. I always heal. You should see what he does to keep Sabretooth in line though."

"Well, I'm not surprised. Creed is one stubborn son of a bitch. But...I don't like the idea that Essex could be hurtin' ya."

"Non, it's just like de love taps of a drill sergeant. As I said, nothin' for ya to worry about."

Logan, however, was unconvinced. His first encounter with the boy at Jean's party already made him conclude with absolute certainty that Remy was being abused, and possibly not just by Creed. Perhaps if he could request for Gambit to be transferred to the X Regiment...

Remy must have sensed the elder officer's line of thinking, and he said reassuringly, "You know? I will not lie to ya dat I like de X Regiment. From what I've seen, you're all just like one big happy family. Mais, Essex has done so much for me. I owe him my life. An' he is helpin' me in a...private...matter. Non, I cannot desert the man. For all that he has done for me, my loyalty is de least dat I could give him."

Although saddened by Gambit's answer, Logan understood the importance of loyalty and paying back important favors. "Well, until we catch that thievin' knave Le Diable Blanc, you're stuck with us. So you might as well make yourself at home and enjoy yourself while you're at it."

"I already am...thanks to de company I'm with."

The Captain pretended to cough in order to halt the rush of blood to his face. "Let's go. We're off to the Arsenal to see Forge."

Remy strolled after the older officer. "Monsieur?"

"It's Logan, remember?"

"Oui...Logan. Who is dis Forge we're goin' to see?"

"Sergeant Forge is the X Regiment's representative in Arsenal and an officer in Artillery. It is his job to develop and test new weapons for His Majesty's armed forces."

"So that's why the youngsters are interested in him. Dey want to see his latest inventions. Even I am fascinated with things dat go boom. In de M Regiment, it's Scalphunter who has de same job as Sergeant Forge."

"Yeah, but the problem with Forge is that the fellow is rather paranoid. Inside that brilliant mind of his, he believes that there are spies who are out there to steal his inventions. I won't be surprised if the news about Le Diable Blanc has gotten his knickers in a tight knot."

"Ah!" Remy exclaimed in understanding, as he produced the passes. "So dat's why we need dese to see him."

Logan let out a snort. "Put 'em away, Gumbo. We won't be needing them. Forge and I go a long way back. He'll see us."

"If you say so," Gambit said doubtfully, tucking the passes back into his pocket. "Why ya callin' me Gumbo, eh? It's _Gambit_. Or better yet, call me Remy."

"Nah, ya look like a Gumbo to me. We're here at last!" Ignoring the younger man's resentful glare, Logan strode over to the front door of the thick granite building. He proceeded to bang hard on the door with his fist. "Forge? Hey, Forge! It's me, Logan. Open up, will ya? My partner and I need to talk to ya!"

They waited a couple of minutes, but no one came to open the door for them.

As Logan pounded on the door once again, Remy meekly suggested, "Maybe we need to show dem de passes, oui?"

"An' I told ya we don't need 'em. Damn it, Forge! Let us in!"

Remy lifted his head, his red on black eyes alighting upon the small bronze bell and the sign tacked beside it. Tapping the angry Captain's shoulder to get his attention, he pointed to the sign and said, "It says here 'In de absence of a pass, ring de bell.' How about I give it a ring an'..."

"You'll do no such thing, Gumbo!"

"Don' call me dat!"

"Forge will see us whether he wants to our not. We're conducting an official investigation here. And besides, I'm his superior officer and..." Logan stopped in mid-statement as the latch dropped from the weight of his hand. "Well, what do ya know? The door's open after all. Forge must be already expectin' us inside."

But Gambit was eyeing the dark interior of the building dubiously. "I don' know, mon ami. I still think we should present de passes or ring de bell."

Logan waved his hand dismissingly. "Don't worry, Gumbo. I'm sure Colonel Xavier has informed him about our visit. Let's you and I go inside and..."

As he took one step into Forge's Aerie, his foot found open air instead of a solid floor. With a startled yell, Logan began to topple into the hole. His flailing hands sought for anything to grab onto to stop his fall. His left hand found purchase, his fingers closing around Remy's ankle.

Before either man knew what was happening, they both fell screaming into the traphole. Meanwhile, above, the front door closed with a soft click, leaving no trace that there had been unwanted visitors come calling.

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

 

**TRANSLATION**

Laissez les bons temps rouler! = Let the good times roll!

Lache pas la patate! = Don't give up! (Literally: Don't let go of the potato!)

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 

"Huff, puff...ya know, mon capitaine..." Gulp. "For a petit homme..." Two deep breaths. "...You're very heavy." Pant, pant. "...Ya must've partaken too much o' de bounties in de Americas, oui, an'...OWWW!" Pathetic whining. "Why ya hit poor Gambit on de head? What'd I do to deserve dat?"

"Who're ya callin' 'petit', bub? And are you implyin' that I'm fat? Perhaps you've forgotten that I'm the captain and you're just the lowly, puny lieutenant!"

"Puny?" A snort of righteous indignation. "You may be higher in rank, mais I'm taller dan you!" A loud crack. "Mon dieu! Dis Cajun's puny bones have had enough! Desole, Monsieur, mais..."

** _CLANG!_ **

"Clang?"

A hearty round of cursing. "How dare ya drop me, Gumbo!" There was a 'snikt' of protruding claws.

"Don' you go pointin' dose things at me!"

Forge stood up from behind the large cannon he was working on, glaring owlishly at the two bickering men through the large goggles strapped over his eyes. "Gentlemen, would you please drag your carcasses away from my doorway? I would very much like to keep that lone entrance open to my view in case of intruders."

Remy saluted the stern-faced Captain of Artillery. "Dis here Cajun hears and obeys your command." Placing his hands under Logan's armpits, he dragged the protesting man away from the entranceway, all the while muttering in a singsong manner, "Ahm a draggin', ahm a draggin' , ahm a draggin' Logan's carcass away."

"Oh, you were wondering about that loud clang you heard when you dropped poor Wolverine here on his behind," Forge began in explanation. "Adamantium was fused to his skeleton, adding a good hundred pounds or more to his normal weight. I personally believe that much of that strong metal is collected specifically in the region of his bum."

The look that Remy gave an infuriated Logan was that of genuine amazement with a twinkle of mischief. "C'est magnifique, Logan! You've got armored-plated buttocks!"

"Yeah, yeah! Ha ha! Have a laugh at my expense! You won't be laughin' once I have ya court-martialed!"

As soon as he got to his feet, Logan thrust his face at Forge. It would have been an intimidating gesture if they were the same height. As it was though, Logan had to tilt his head back in order to glower into the other man's eyes. Something which Gambit found highly amusing, but he dared not show his mirth on his face.

"Now, would you mind explaining to me what the hell was _that_ Gumbo and I passed through?" Logan demanded. "First, we fell through a hole and slid down winding tunnels. Then, we find ourselves in a room with spiked walls closing in on us. Although, through some miracle, we somehow managed to escape that, we ended up in a long corridor with arrows, bombs, fire and lord knows what else being thrown at us."

"A simple deterrent for spies and intruders," Forge replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, didn't you read my sign at the front door? You obviously didn't have a pass. The least you could've done was to ring the bell. A scope would've dropped down from the ceiling, and I would've identified you and let you in."

Remy opened his mouth to speak, but Logan raised a warning finger at him. He pursed his full lips in a sullen pout instead.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, Logan said, "I supposed you know why we're here."

"A useless visit, if you ask me," the quirky inventor remarked with a snort. "You've seen the security measures I've taken for my Aerie. Do you think Le Diable Blanc would be foolish enough to waltz in here?"

"I know I wouldn't," Remy mumbled, glancing down with distaste at the large tear on his coat caused by a swinging pendulum axe.

"And another thing. I can't imagine one man carting away any of my inventions without being seen. I work with guns, cannons and other deadly weapons in case you've forgotten."

"But what about the plans for all this stuff you've been making?" asked Logan, certain of an existing flaw in Forge's security measures.

To this query, Forge tapped his temple with his finger. "All in here. They could only get the plans by abducting me." He lifted a large complex gun strapped to his right arm. "Anyway, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." Going back to the cannon he was welding, he suggested, "I think you should go to McCoy. He's the doctor of the X Regiment, and the head researcher on our race. If information is what Le Diable Blanc's looking for, McCoy would be his most likely target." A knowing smile lifted from the corners of Forge's mouth. Even his mustache twitched at the gesture. "_Homo sapiens superior_...living weapons."

Logan nodded in grudging agreement. "Well, sorry for bothering you then. Let's go, Gumbo."

The Captain barely hid his irritation as he stomped out of Forge's Aerie. Gambit was about to follow the older man, but Forge's voice stopped him.

"Lt. Gambit, I was impressed to say the least with the way you managed to get through my maze of traps," Forge commented. "If it were Logan, he would've charged and slashed his way through with his usual bluster and bravado. But you...not only were you able to dodge my projectiles easily, afterwards, you seemed to know where the bullets and the arrows would be coming from. Not only that, you somehow avoided tripping my other hidden traps as well, like you knew they were there." He looked the younger officer straight in the eye. "Tell me, son. Should we have any reason not to trust you while you're with our regiment?"

Remy held that firm gaze with his own. "It depends, Monsieur. Dis is just my first day with de X Regiment, after all. As you know, trust goes both ways. I must try to prove myself to you, while you will do de same to me. Mais, if it is a small consolation to ya, I will not betray Captain Logan's trust. Dat man...I sense dat he has been through many trials. I will not hurt him."

"Yes, that is a small consolation," Forge agreed with him, as he went back to work. "I'll hold you to your promise, boy."

"Gumbo, where the hell are ya?"

"Comin', Monsieur!" Turning to Forge one last time, Remy saluted the Artillery Captain before hurrying off after Logan.

He did not notice that Forge observed his departure out of the corner of his eye.

 

Dr. Henry McCoy's surgery – situated a short distance from the X Regiment barracks – proved to be a rather pleasant surprise. It resembled a quaint two-storey gingerbread house, much like in the fairy tales that Remy's adoptive father used to narrate to him by his bedside before he went to sleep. The surgery was an eye-appealing contrast to the stark buildings surrounding it.

But fresh from their ordeal at Forge's Aerie, Logan was not taking any chances. He took the passes out of Remy's pocket before the younger man could raise a peep, stalked over to the front door and, literally, rattled the small bell so that it fell from its hook.

When those formidable claws popped out, however, Gambit raised both hands, palms facing forward, in a halting gesture. "Now, now, mon ami. I don' think you'll need dose things here. Put 'em away before ya hurt someone."

"I just wanna be prepared for any nasty surprises, that's all," Logan declared, growling.

Suddenly, the front door burst open followed by a cry of "Company! I've got company!" Seeing the large lumbering mass of blue fur barreling toward him, Logan took a step to the side, leaving a wide-eyed Remy to be lifted into the air, spun around, and crushed in an ecstatic embrace.

"Aaaahhh! Long have I awaited a visit from good friends who are hale and hearty in health and not injured from the smoky fields of battle," McCoy exclaimed, rubbing his cheek against a breathless Cajun.

"Help!" Remy somehow managed to choke out. "I'm dyin' here!"

That choked plea caused the Cajun's enthusiastic hugger to recall himself. He carefully set Remy down, stammering, "Oh, forgive me! It's just that it's been so long since I've had anyone able in body come calling." But then, he paused as a pleasant aroma exuding from Remy's coat wafted up his nostrils. "Oooh! What is that delicious aroma? Sweetcakes, am I correct? Or some other tasty pastry?"

Logan watched amused at the flicker of emotions on the Cajun's face – first, alarm as flaring nostrils sniffed his person, followed by wariness as red and black eyes inspected the strange blue furred being which seemed like a cross between a huge ape and a lion. Then, sheer delight brightened Remy's features as he gingerly patted the creature.

"Down, boy," Remy chuckled as his long fingers ran and scratched lightly through that thick blue fur. "Oui, ya smell sweetcakes all right, mais dey were a present for Robert Drake."

"Behind my ears...yes, that feels so good," was the blissful purr in answer. "So that ragamuffin Drake is the beneficiary of a tasty gift and he hasn't even seen fit to share with his new met friend Hank. Methinks I should pay a visit to young Bobby later in the day."

"Remy, I would like you to meet Dr. Henry McCoy, resident physician of the X Regiment," Logan introduced. "Hank, this here's Lt. Remy LeBeau from Essex's squad."

"Enchante," McCoy greeted in turn, planting a kiss on the Cajun's fingertips hoping to catch even a taste of the yummy pastry he had been deprived of.

"Can I bring him home with me?" was Remy's eager, but unexpected query, which instantly raised suspicions inside the Captain's mind.

People who meet the good doctor for the first time become terrified because of his more animal appearance. Others would be repulsed, even going so far as to demand that he be locked up in a cage. This was the reason why – despite being a brilliant physician and except for the soldiers in the X Regiment and their families – so few patients came to Dr. McCoy's surgery.

But there was neither terror nor revulsion on the Cajun's face. His initial caution was akin to that of a child who desired a special toy in a store window, only to be stunned to disbelief upon finding said toy in his arms. There wasn't any doubt in Logan's mind that Remy knew first hand about the physical appearance of the X Regiment's doctor known as Beast.

Remy felt the Captain's suspicious stare like a cold beam at the back of his neck. He knew he had slipped; he had to act fast.

Gently pushing his Charm at Logan, the Cajun explained, "De good doctor here reminds me of a toy dat mon Pere gave me. Mais..." He flung his arms around McCoy's neck. "...Not dis big!"

To Remy's relief, Logan visibly relaxed at that answer. Laughing, the Captain said, "No way are you bringin' Hank home, Gumbo. Besides, isn't Creed the resident mascot of the M Regiment?"

Remy's eyes narrowed in a simmering glower. "Dat ain't funny, mon ami."

Extricating himself from the lieutenant's embrace, McCoy amiably patted the younger man's arm. "Don't worry, my boy. For as long as you're with us, you can visit me any time you wish. As I said, I get very few visitors here...for obvious reasons. The only one who has been so kind enough to keep me company late at night is Le Diable Blanc and..."

"WAIT!" Logan snapped at once. "Are you saying that Diable has been here?"

"Why, yes! For more than a week."

"You know who he is? What he looks like?"

McCoy quickly raised his furry hands to stop the impatient captain from bombarding him with questions. "Hold on, my friend. I'm afraid I don't know who he is or what he looks like."

Deep lines formed on Logan's brow as he scowled at the doctor. "But you said that Diable's been visiting you..."

"Not...exactly." McCoy scratched his head sheepishly as he plopped down in a chair. "The first time, I became aware of Diable's presence when I noticed that a few of the files on my desk were out of place. No, he didn't steal anything, but I suspect I arrived too soon for him to do much mischief and he fled instead. There were a couple of similar incidents after that. But one particularly late evening, I caught him in my office. He was just a tall shadow standing frozen beside my bookshelf, one of my journals in his arms. Since he was too far from the window and I was blocking the only other exit, he was obviously at a loss on what to do."

"You...you had him cornered," Remy queried, stammering at his first word. "Mais, why didn't you apprehend him?"

"Call it my beastly instinct if you will, but I sensed no danger from him. He was obviously a frightened young man who truly did not mean me any harm."

"So?" Logan interjected. "What did you do next?"

"Nothing," McCoy shrugged his broad shoulders. "I merely went about my business and started chatting away. I did tell him though to put my journal back where he got it before he left, and he did. I did not even feel his departure. He was just gone the next instant I turned to look at him again."

The gruff Captain shook his head. "Stupid, stupid, McCoy! The man's a spy and you let him go."

"That's just it. I don't think he's a spy."

"Why do you say that?" the Cajun asked curiously.

"In the nights that followed, Diable would climb through my window. Without saying a word, he would go through my journals one by one in my plain view. To keep him at ease, I would chat with him amicably, although he never spoke at all. One time, I became concerned because I smelled blood on him and he moved with obvious pain. But he hid in the shadows before I could get close to him. I never dared to approach him after that. I suppose that my kindness must have touched him in some way because, after that, he started bringing me tasty pastries."

Logan's eyes rolled upwards. "Oh, this is great! You lowered your guard because the thief's been giving you good stuff to eat."

McCoy glared at him balefully. "My dear Logan! My stomach is a better judge of character than you. Anyone who could make such scrumptious pastries could certainly not be evil."

"Are you sure he hasn't been giving you treats laced with a love potion of some kind?"

"I'm pretty sure there was nothing of the sort in those tasty treats. But...I don't know how I could describe it."

"Try," Logan said insistently.

"Well," McCoy began in obvious embarrassment, "it seems as if he had put his heart into the pastries he had made for me. Every bite I took, I could feel the love that was inside his heart, his fears and his pain. Really very strange. I could not help not trusting him after that. Besides, he had not displayed any behavior that warranted suspicion and distrust."

"Mais, he could be playing mind games with you, Monsieur," Remy suggested quietly. "Just how sure are you dat Diable was not memorizing what was written in your journals?"

The good doctor shook his head. "I seriously doubt it, my young friend. He had gone through every book, file and journal in my office, and yet he kept on coming back. I believe that Diable is searching for something specific, something pertaining to blast injuries and psionic abilities. I know, because those were the books and journals that he kept reading through."

Logan fell silent. If this were true, then it confirmed Xavier's suspicions that Le Diable Blanc was indeed searching for the survivor from the Blunden explosion.

Lost in his troubled thoughts, he barely heard Remy inquire, "Monsieur, perhaps I...I mean de Captain an' I...should take a look at de files dat Diable had taken an interest in. Maybe we could find out what it is he's lookin' for."

McCoy smirked at Logan. "I don't know if Logan has the patience for my scientific ramblings. But you, my boy, are welcome to look at them any time you're available."

There was no hiding the joy in Remy's red on black eyes at this answer. "Is dat all right with you, Logan?"

"I don't see why not," Logan replied. "We are working on this case after all. But do it tomorrow, Gumbo. We still have a couple of people to talk to."

The young lieutenant seemed crestfallen at that answer, but he answered in turn, "Oui, I'll do dat, Logan."

"Don't worry, my boy," McCoy said reassuringly. "My books are open for you. Maybe you could share with me some of the tasty treats that you gifted our greedy Bobby with on your next visit."

"De pastries were made by Colonel Essex's ward, mais I taught him how to make dem," Remy remarked with a hint of pride in his voice. "I'll be de one to make yummy treats for you, Monsieur. You like some too, Logan?"

"I don't have a sweet tooth, but sure, why not?" Logan said grinning. "Let's get going, Gumbo. We still got people to see."

As Logan marched out the door, Remy found his left hand caught in McCoy's warm grasp.

"You know, Remy," McCoy began. "There's something that I always failed to tell Le Diable Blanc, because he always kept sneaking away so quickly."

"An' what's that, Monsieur?"

"Not 'Monsieur'. Call me 'Henry' or 'Hank'."

"Oui...Henry. What is it dat you wanted to say to Diable?"

"That I know that he...or someone close to him...is in trouble. And that, if he could only learn to trust me, I would be very willing to help him in any way I can." McCoy patted the Cajun's hand tenderly. "Because I am his friend."

Remy stared into those dark eyes, and only saw worry and sincerity in them. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he replied, "You should tell him, Henry. I am sure dat he would be very happy to hear dat."

 

The remainder of the day followed the general tenor of the morning, their inquiries yielding an absolute zero. Of the people they had questioned, they either knew nothing or they were concealing what they knew of Le Diable Blanc, which was probably very little if their encounters with the elusive thief were similar with Dr. Henry McCoy's.

As a result, Lieutenant Remy LeBeau learned something new about his grumpy partner later that evening after they had concluded their inquiries – when Captain Logan was frustrated, he ate..._a lot_!

Remy sat at a corner table in Mother Martha's Eel Pies, watching bug-eyed as Wolverine gobbled pannikin after pannikin of the crowded tavern's specialty. He could hardly stomach sticking a fork into the greasy pie sitting sedately in front of him.

"That Diable must be quite a charmer," Logan remarked between bites of pie. "For a thief, he seems to be very well liked, even by some of his victims. Then again, most of them were ladies, but I'm surprised with Henry McCoy. I never figured he could trust someone he hasn't seen that easily."

"Maybe it's like he said," Remy suggested, watching with distaste as crumbs went flying out of his partner's mouth as he spoke. "Perhaps Hank did indeed sense something in Diable dat..."

The Captain shook his head. Waving a bit of eel meat on his fork before the Cajun's paling face, he said, "I don't think so. I believe the man's an emotion manipulator, an empath. Twisting a person's feelings around so that they'd trust him. With a power like that, he could get anyone to do what he wanted."

Remy turned his face away so that the older man wouldn't see the red color filling his cheeks. "Logan, should ya talk while eatin'?" He grimaced as Logan called out for another pie and a tankard of ale. "An' should ya be eatin' more o' dat? If you fall into another trapdoor, I don' think I could carry ya anymore."

"Ya really are a barrel of laughs, ain'tcha, Cajun," Logan spoke as he thrust the piece of eel pie inside his mouth, grease slicking his lips. Pouting at the younger man's untouched pie, he asked, "You haven't eaten a single bite of that."

Remy gulped hard at the thought of putting even a tiny morsel between his lips. "I'm afraid I'm not accustomed to fare like dis." Turning to the stout German woman who set the new pie before the Captain, he asked, "Madame, could ya please take dis away an' just bring me a bowl o' gumbo?"

As Logan choked on that query, the woman looked at the Cajun as though he were a cockroach to be stomped on. "Gumbo? GUMBO? And what manner of foul dish is that so that it could surpass Mother Martha's succulent eel pies? That must be horrid barbarian fare from the Americas!"

Gambit was affronted by the insult to his favorite dish. "I'll have you know, Madame, gumbo is a healthy soup of okra, meat and seafoods, not like dis..." He waved to his pie in disgust. "I don't even know what to call dis. It's drowning in fat."

"I'd shut my mouth if I were you, Gumbo," Logan kicked him in the shin under the table, as Martha began spewing out invectives in German about the distant land the Cajun called home.

But Remy was incensed. Behind his glasses, he could feel his red on black eyes glowing. Already his fingers tingled with rising power. If he could not bring his temper under control, he was sure to...

"HELP SOMEONE! HELP! THIEF! THIEF!"

That cry immediately caused both men to rise to their feet. Throwing several coins on top of the table, Logan hurried outside the tavern, with Remy right at his heels.

The woman who was shrieking happened to be the proprietress of the brothel across the street. The rather stout lady was standing at the balcony of her establishment. The other whores had poured out and were screaming at the top of their lungs along with her.

To Remy's critical observation, though, the whores' ear-shattering histrionics did not resemble the affronted shrieks of those whose property has been violated by a felon, but more of the squeals of delight of the titillated.

"What happened?" Logan shouted to the women on the balcony above.

"That dastardly knave Le Diable Blanc stole my undergarments!" was the snappy answer, accompanied by – yes, it was indeed delighted – squirming.

_Undergarments?_ the Cajun's face darkened in a scowl, the hairs at his nape bristling.

"How sure are you that it was Diable?" Logan too didn't sound convinced. "Did you get a good look at him?"

The brothel Madame paused for a moment to think and then shook her head. "No, he was hidden in the shadows. But he was a big man though. Oh! As he plucked my undergarments from the clothesline, he said to me, 'I'll be gettin' dis, mon cher.' "

Remy had no reason to doubt that the woman was a credible mimic. Not only was she able to capture that horrendous mock Cajun accent, not to mention that grossly mispronounced "cher" (what was said was "chair"), she added a guttural quality to her voice, so that the Cajun knew at once who this faux Diable was.

As if to confirm his suspicions, his sharp vision caught a hulking figure leap to the next rooftop, carrying what looked like a fluttering blanket.

One of the whores noticed that movement and screeched, "I see him! There he goes!"

The Cajun could only thank the voudoun deity watching over him that the only thing that Logan saw as he turned around was the outline of what resembled a billowing cape. But then, to his alarm, the older man began sniffing the air in that direction.

"What's wrong with your nose, homme?" asked Remy, his blood growing cold.

"I'm not sure," Logan answered hesitantly. "I can't readily identify the scent because of the smell of cooking food in the air, but it is very familiar. Come on, Gumbo!"

Logan was about to give chase, but then his stomach rumbled like thunder and his hands flew to his cramping belly, his face grimacing in pain.

"I told ya not to eat too much!" the Cajun scolded the older man, completely forgetting in his agitation that Logan was his superior. He removed his glasses and slid it inside his coat pocket. Red on black eyes glowed like embers in the shadows. "You follow dem from down here! I'm goin' topside!"

Before Logan could protest, Remy launched himself by grabbing a nearby lamppost and swinging up to the brothel balcony. Pushing off from the ledge with his feet, he jumped to the opposite building where he had seen his quarry disappear.

On the roof, he had been expecting to find Sabretooth. Great was his surprise when, aside from a laughing Creed, he saw five more distinct figures racing through the rooftops.

"Merde!" Remy cursed under his breath. "What are dese fools up to?"

With an angry growl, the Cajun headed straight for the two forms that had suddenly stopped at the edge of a tall building. As he drew nearer, he could hear female voices – one frantic and angry, the other absolutely terrified.

"Come on! I promise I'll help you across! We won't fall!"

"I c-c-can't! Too high!"

Remy would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation that his two comrades were in. Despite her formidable codename, Vertigo was afraid of heights. Arclight – who had no such problems – was not particularly known for her patience.

"If you don't move right now, I swear I'll kick you off this roof!"

Seeing Vertigo on the verge of tears, the Cajun let fly a strong metal line from the gadget strapped to his right arm, hidden under the sleeve of his coat. The line wrapped around the waists of the startled women.

"You two climb down de wall fast before Logan sees ya," Remy told them as he secured the line to an iron pipe. "Once you reach de street, just keep walkin' an' act inconspicuous."

"Oh, thank you, Remy!" Vertigo exclaimed in sincere gratitude, as she clung to Arclight, who began to make the descent.

"Don' thank me yet!" the Cajun called after them. "Ya'll have a lot of explaining to do later."

With the women safe, Remy continued his pursuit. There was no mistaking the frenzied whirligig and the large man with the sheath of spears running ahead of him. He was about to call out to Harpoon and Riptide, only to find himself dodging flashing shurikens.

"What do ya think you're doin? It's me! Ga...MERDE!"

Remy jumped back as a harpoon plunged into the place where he had been standing.

"Oh, it's you, Gambit! Sorry about that. It's rather dark. We didn't recognize you," Riptide declared in half-hearted apology.

"Hey, no offense, Cajun," put in Harpoon, chuckling. "No harm done."

But Remy was infuriated. Jerking the spear free, he stormed toward the two men. "No harm?" he asked, gripping the spear like a club. _"You almost got me killed!"_

A second later, Riptide and Harpoon were flying through the air, falling into a fish bin below. As the lid slammed shut above their heads, the Cajun locked it by throwing the spear into the latch notch.

Having dispatched his two errant comrades, Remy spun on his heels to deal with Prism, only to find the officer in question standing before him.

"I'm not fighting you, Gambit," Prism said, raising both hands in surrender. "We were only following the Colonel's orders."

"What orders? What have ya'll been doin'?"

Instead of answering the Cajun's questions, Prism pulled out something from his trousers pocket and pressed it into a confused Remy's hand.

"That's the best I could do. Sorry," Prism apologized before leaping down from the ledge.

Remy was about to go down after him, only to pause in mid-step as a rough voice exclaimed derisively, "Ooooh! A rampagin' Cajun! Scary!"

The young lieutenant exhaled slowly as he faced a grinning Creed. Fluttering from Sabretooth's shoulders were the largest pair of silk pantalettes he had ever seen in his entire life. The pantalette legs were tied around his brawny neck.

"What's dis all about, Creed?" Remy asked, already past the point of exasperation.

"It's just as Prism said. We were just followin' Essex's orders. Seein' that you'll be busy with that runt Wolverine, he had us pretend to be Le Diable Blanc." Creed burst into laughter. "I never knew just how enjoyable thievery was. No wonder you like it so much. I could get into this line of work myself."

"Have any of ya looked in the mirror?" Gambit remarked dryly. "Anyone with half a brain would know immediately that you're not Diable."

"True, but with so many impostors running around, it'll keep Xavier's lackeys busy." Creed slowly walked over to him. Although the Cajun stood his ground, inwardly, his body trembled at the memory of his last intimate encounter with Sabretooth. "Oh, I completely forgot! The good colonel gave us one other order."

"And what's dat?" the young officer asked suspiciously.

Remy gasped as Creed picked him up by the lapel of his coat and carried him over to the edge.

"Get rid of any pursuers," was all that Sabretooth muttered, as he tossed the Cajun into the air.

The suddenness of the act shocked Remy's mind into a split second of indecision. Seeing the ground looming closer, however, spurred him into action, and he clicked the device on his arm. To his dismay, the mechanism was jammed and the cord inside would not be released. Closing his eyes, he waited for his head to impact on the cobblestones below.

"REMY!"

The Cajun gasped in surprise as he was enfolded in strong hairy arms. A quick twist and he found himself landing and rolling on a bed of soft straw. When they stopped, a warm mouth pressed against his lips. The kiss – if it was indeed that – was brief and fleeting. As Remy's eyelids fluttered open, he found himself staring into worried blue eyes. A horse – whose feeding was interrupted by their untimely drop – whickered at his left ear.

"Are ya all right, Gumbo?" Logan asked in concern. "You scared me half to death when I saw you fall off the roof."

Remy allowed the older man to help him to his feet. "I'm fine. I lost my balance an' slipped."

Reluctance crossed Logan's face briefly. As if reaching a decision, he stated, "That scent I caught earlier...I smelled Sabretooth."

"Oui, it was Creed." There was no point in hiding the other man's presence, but certainly not his purpose for being there. "He was nearby an' heard de commotion. He figured he'd better join in de pursuit. Mais..."

"Diable got away from ya."

"Non, it wasn't Diable, mais someone pretendin' to be him. Another thief. Honestly, Logan, do ya believe dat a thief of his caliber would steal women's undergarments?"

"I didn't. Ya don't have to get snippy with me, Gumbo." Logan growled in frustration. "This is just great! Now we have to deal with an impostor."

"Make dat plural. I saw at least three shadowy figures runnin' around up dere. If we hurry, I'm sure we could still capture one o' dem..."

"We'll do no such thing," the Captain said firmly. "You've had a rough night and almost got killed. I'm takin' ya back to the M Regiment barracks."

Remy's heart was warmed by the older man's concern for him. "Non, I can go back on my own. Besides, ya must inform Colonel Xavier and Major Summers of dis new development."

Logan let out a dejected sigh. "I guess you're right. Charles would need to know about the existence of impostors out there."

"Shall we continue with our investigation tomorrow then?"

"No, you need the rest. It's only your first day, and there's been too much excitement for ya. Besides, I have to make a few personal inquiries."

The Cajun smiled. "Homme, I think you're forgettin' dat I'm a soldier too. I'm perfectly capable of takin' care o' myself. I think I'll do some investigatin' on my own as well. Shall we meet again...let's say...after three days?"

Logan nodded in agreement. "Yes, three days would be fine. We could compare notes. Well, then. You'd better get goin' now, Gumbo."

"Merci for a fine day, Monsieur," Gambit saluted his superior. Logan was about to walk away when a thought struck him. "Logan?"

"What is it, Cajun?" Logan stopped near the lamp post, not even bothering to turn to look at the younger man.

Remy pressed a fingertip to the Cupid's bow of his lips. "Did you...uh...kiss me...earlier?"

Even with his face in profile, there was no mistaking the dark red color that filled his cheeks. With a small cough, Logan answered, "It was just a little accident, Remy. I was tryin' to cradle your head from the impact and... As I said, it was a very small accident."

Remy watched the Captain hasten to cross the street, his strides long and brisk. He wondered if Logan even realized that he had called the handsome lieutenant by his first name.

Smiling to himself, Remy whispered, "Non, mon brave. Dat ain't no accident."

 

 

&lt;Crikey! These are a lady's under-knickers? Where'd ya get them off from? A whale?&gt;

Remy entered Essex's salon to find Jono holding up a voluminous pair of pantalettes. The large undergarment practically concealed the lower half of the boy's bandaged face down to his knees.

Sabretooth noticed Gambit's entrance. To a lounging Essex, he remarked, "It's fine Chinee silk. I figured ya might want to use 'em on the Cajun there."

Jono was too awestruck by the size of the undergarments that he failed to note the lecherous undertone in Creed's words. &lt;But these things are too large for Remy. I wonder if you could make curtains out of these and...&gt;

"Gimme dat!" Remy snatched the pantalettes out of Jono's hands and slammed it down on the table. Glaring at his other comrades, he demanded, "All right! Let's see what ya got! Show me your loot!"

Being women, the Cajun was thankful at least to see that Arclight and Vertigo had stolen jewelry. The others' booty, however, were questionable. Riptide had raided a bookstore of newly published erotica. Harpoon had stolen shiny but worthless knick knacks that had caught his eye. As for Prism...

Remy held out the bejeweled dog collar that the officer had given him earlier. "I recognize dis thing. Ya got dis off of Worthington's dog!"

Prism shrugged nonchalantly as he replied, "What can I do? I was going to steal Worthington's gold and jewels, but the stupid creature kept following me around."

"Is something the matter, Remy?" Essex asked inquisitively.

"You ask me what's wrong?" Remy asked in turn, incredulous. "Except for de jewels, Le Diable Blanc would not steal dis junk."

"Speak for yourself, LeBeau," Scalphunter interjected. "Some of these would be quite useful to me." He picked out a broken trowel, some brand new horseshoe nails and a lump of bronze from the pile. "I'll take these, Harpoon."

"Certainly," Harpoon said, inwardly thankful that Scalphunter had at least thought that he had done something right. "Go ahead. Take them."

"And I'll borrow this." Grey Crow waggled his bushy eyebrows at Riptide while holding up a mint condition copy of _Fanny Hill_.

Riptide lowered the broadsheet he was reading and frowned, "Yes, but be sure to return it in three days. That's the illustrated edition."

"In that case, I'll be returning it after a _month_." Grey Crow's mustache twitched as he sniffed his two comrades. "You two smell like fish. Haven't you taken a bath?"

Remy grabbed the book out of Scalphunter's hand and piled everything on top of the undergarment. "I'm returnin' everything you stole. Mais you could keep your scraps." Seeing the plaintive look on his female comrade's faces, he sighed and dug among the jewelry. To Vertigo, he gave a pair of emerald earrings. To Arclight, a pearl bracelet. As a courtesy, he handed a sapphire ring to Malice, who was busy sketching something on a sheet of paper.

"That is most gracious of you, Monsieur LeBeau," Malice acknowledged the gift.

He looked at Essex, who was watching the proceedings with amusement. "Is dere anythin' ya like from dis junk?"

The Colonel prodded a lavish copy of the _Kama Sutra _out of the pile with his cane. "I'll be taking this. And don't worry. I'll give you the money to pay for it. Our mutual friend at Avalon might find it useful in furthering your...studies."

A choked sound came out of Gambit's throat. Rather than reply, he turned to Jono. "How about you, petit?"

&lt;I'm curious to see the owner of those under-knickers,&gt; Jono confessed.

"Non," Remy snapped at him. "You're too young to go visitin' dat type o' woman. Frankly, I still couldn' understand why Creed took dis thing. It's...it's...URGH!"

Sensing the younger man's distress, Essex explained, "Please don't be angry, my dear Remy. I had them do this with your best interest in mind. After all, we did discuss that it might prove difficult for you to play the investigating lieutenant and our notorious thief at the same time. I guess I should have told them to go for valuables and not take anything that catches their eyes."

"Oui, you should have." Remy did not bother to hide his resentment. "I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

The Cajun let out a surprised yelp as Essex pulled him onto his lap. "And a mighty fine reputation it is indeed," he murmured appreciatively, drawing the younger man into a deep kiss, which caused amused chuckles to be elicited from the other Marauders.

Except for Jono. Tiny tongues of psionic flame snaked out from under the bandages covering Jono's face as if it were trying to calm the boy, who was close to losing his temper at seeing his guardian being taken advantage of yet again by his superior.

Essex must have noticed the dagger looks that Jono was throwing at him. Reluctantly, he brought the kiss to an end.

"Alas, I have tests to perform this evening. We shall be having a guest in the next few days and I need to maximize the time I have to conduct as much of my experiments as I could possibly can," Essex explained regretfully, while longingly rubbing Remy's taut bottom. He gave Jono a knowing smile. "Something I'm sure that you're happy about." To the Cajun, he asked, "Do you have any plans with Captain Wolverine tomorrow, Gambit?"

"Non, Monsieur," Remy squirmed to get the older man's hand off his behind, only to have hard fingers squeeze a firm cheek to keep him still. "I had a near mishap while pursuing your faux Diables. Monsieur Logan figured I would need de rest."

"And what 'near mishap' was that?"

"I fell off de roof of a building. Thankfully, de good Captain was dere to catch me." Remy deliberately omitted Sabretooth's role in his near fatal fall and, especially, Logan's sweet, but stolen, kiss.

Essex looked at him thoughtfully as though the Colonel suspected that he was hiding something. Rather than give voice to his suspicions, he said, "It seems I'm in Captain Logan's debt then, and I do agree with his suggestion."

"Mais, I was thinkin' of visitin' Dr. Henry McCoy tomorrow. He was very kind enough to offer to show me his files. I believe I could use this opportunity to search for information on the...people...whose talents may be of benefit to de M Regiment."

Essex wisely chose to lapse into silence lest he unwittingly blurt out something he shouldn't. He had been using that ruse to keep Gambit occupied. While it was true that he desired the information contained within Xavier's Cerebro Files to increase the ranks of the M Regiment, that was _before_ he was able to gain who could arguably be _the_ most powerful of their kind. But of course, he still needed to confirm this fact, and he could not do so without keeping a very tight leash on the Cajun, and in doing so, eventually gaining the cooperation of his recalcitrant ward.

Shaking his head, Essex said, "No, that could wait. As I said, we'll be having a guest, and that would mean very little quality time with you. Stay home tomorrow, Remy. A few days deprivation of your beguiling company in my bed is a trial I could not endure. Besides, I don't want Wolverine stealing you away from me."

It was Remy's turn to bend down and give his superior a passionate kiss lest he sees the blush that colored his cheeks. "No chance o' dat happenin', Monsieur."

"Go and get some rest now." The Colonel gave Gambit one last pat on the rump. "I want you fresh for me tomorrow."

Getting off Essex's lap, Remy gave the older man a respectful bow. Taking his comrades' loot, he exited the salon with Jono tagging along behind him.

&lt;What a pervert!&gt; Jono snorted in disgust. &lt;He makes me sick! I don't know how you could stand it.&gt;

"I told ya, petit," Remy said with a sigh. "I do what I must." Switching topics, he inquired winking, "And why are you up so late? Waiting for me?"

&lt;Rather than ask, why don't you just tell me?&gt; the boy said impatiently. &lt;Well? Well? _WELL?_&gt;

"Since you insist," the Cajun ignored the glower his young ward threw at him, "oui, I did meet Monsieur Robert Drake earlier. A charmin', homme. No wonder you're quite taken with him an'..."

&lt;_AND?_&gt;

Not wanting to prolong Jono's agony any longer, he simply stated, "He was very pleased with de sweetcakes you gave him an' wishes to convey to you his thanks."

&lt;He loved them,&gt; Jono's eyes twinkled with joy and hope. &lt;Is that all he said?&gt;

"Bobby said he would like to see you again."

At this response, excited psionic flames flared underneath the boy's bandages.

Remy knew what was going through Jono's mind. "Don' even think about it, petit. You know Essex has forbidden you from leaving de mansion. We were lucky dat Sabretooth got de brunt o' his anger."

&lt;I'm not his prisoner or his property, Remy.&gt;

"True, mais we are in his debt. We must do what he says if dere is de slightest chance dat he could cure you." Although he knew that it would hurt the boy, he asked, "Tell me, petit. Ya did somethin' to dose sweetcakes, didn't you?"

&lt;I...I'm not sure what you mean.&gt;

"Petit, I don' know exactly how your powers work. But since you are able to communicate with me through your psionic voice, I suspect dat you may have de Charm like me. What did you do while you were makin' dose sweetcakes?"

&lt;Nothing! I...I was just thinking of Bobby, an' how I wished that he would like me. I...kinda...wanted him to feel how much I liked him. But...I didn't do it deliberately, I swear!&gt;

"I know you didn't. Mais, de Charm...it could backfire on you. What if he does learn to like you, would you want Bobby to see what you really look like underneath dose bandages?"

&lt;Yes, I know!&gt; Jono cried with a frustrated sob. &lt;But...couldn't I even dream of the possibility that Bobby could love me the way I am?&gt;

Remy pulled the boy into his embrace. "Oui, petit. You have every right to dream. Mais, I've seen what de Charm could do. I've lost lovers who thought I manipulated dem into loving me." He did not tell Jono about the abuse he had suffered at the hands of some of those lovers. "I don' want you to get hurt."

&lt;But if I don't take the risk, how would I know? Tell me the truth, Remy. If the chance for true love and happiness presented itself to you, would you take it? And to hell with Essex and your Charm! Would you seize that chance?&gt;

Remy was sorely tempted to lie, to say that he would not dare having his heart broken or his body sullied again. But the memory of a stolen kiss kept intruding into his thoughts. And how could he even admit to a falsehood while staring into Jono's blazing eyes.

Committing his soul to the devil of desire, Remy whispered, "Oui, Jono. I most definitely would."

 

 

Logan was sitting on the window sill, smoking a cigar, as he gazed at the empty training field below. Perhaps not so empty. He saw Rictor and Shatterstar sneak away into the nearby woods for an illicit rendezvous. There was no mistaking the scent of pheromones emanating from those two. A few minutes later, Piotr Rasputin emerged from the other barracks, dressed in a fine-cut gentleman's suit. In his hand was a beautiful bouquet of blue roses. Colossus must have sensed something, because the tall officer suddenly turned in surprise and grabbed a distinctly male figure in black who darted into his arms. As their faces met in a heated kiss, Logan turned away in embarrassment, but not by the amorous sight he had just witnessed.

_I can't believe I did that!_ Logan thought in shame. _I only just met the man and already I'm lusting after him as though he were a bitch in heat. Remy must think me a pervert of the highest order._

But the naughty Wolverine inside him sent him one image to the contrary. That of Remy standing in the dim lamplight, a fingertip pressed to his full lips, a small smile of hopeful anticipation curling up the corners.

Logan waved away that image with a snarl. _I must be going insane! I couldn't have fallen so quickly for Remy...and he's a man. I've never fallen in love with a man before_.

This time, Wolverine replied eagerly, &lt;Well, there's a first time for everything. You're in love with Remy LeBeau. Why don't you admit it? Even if you don't, I'd certainly want to bed him.&gt;

"Oh, shut up you! It's bad enough I'm talking to myself! I have to deal with my alter ego's lecherous urges!"

"...In love," a soft voice murmured from the bed.

Logan stiffened, wondering if Bobby had overheard his disturbing monologue. But the young man lay blissfully asleep. Lying on a plate beside his pillow was a block of ice in which was encased the last piece of pastry that his would-be lover had given him.

"Love you, Jono," Bobby murmured in tender pining. "Want to see you again."

Hearing that last, Logan could not help but smile painfully. Three days... It seemed like forever before he would see the Cajun again.

"Damn it, Bobby!" Logan told his sleeping partner. "Looks like we both got hit hard!"

 

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is soo late. Could only blame work and serious depression. Anyway, I hope you like this.

 

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 

Jonothon Starsmore has always harbored a strong dislike for people. As a child, he was viewed as an object of derision and ridicule for being the offspring of a whore and a vagabond, whom he never knew. Because of this, he rebelled against those who would dare to put him in his place – his abusive stepfather, his weak mother, the townspeople – which led to his being sent into the mines at a very tender age to toil like a common laborer. Not a single day went by that he wasn't beaten, but he never cried. He never gave in to self-pity and misery.

What he succumbed to in the end was his temper. There was a limit, after all, as to how much a growing youth could endure having a switch create bleeding welts on one's skin. Then, everything disappeared in a fiery blaze, including the lower half of his face and most of his upper body. It was a miracle how he survived. Perhaps the Devil – like God – took care of his own. Would he be sending one of his demons to fetch his newborn minion?

That night, as he lay on the scorched earth amidst the ruins of the town, someone had indeed come for him. But it wasn't a demon, but a tall, handsome soldier. His first impression was that the man was a strange one. Who would wear colored glasses in the dark? Nevertheless, guilt prompted Jono to get to his feet and humbly extend his hands, wrists pressed together in order for them to be bound.

He never expected the soldier to hurry over to him, give him a fierce hug, and ask desperately, "Are ya de only one? No other survivors?"

Jono's reply was a single shake of the head. After all, he no longer had a mouth, so how could he speak? Then again, why wasn't the man repulsed by his monstrous appearance?

To his greater surprise, the soldier knelt before him, laying gentle hands upon his shoulders, and inquired with heart-rending hope, "Are...are ya perhaps...Christien LeBeau?"

That name...he had heard that name before...Christien...It was so familiar to him...

Yet, he could not pretend to be someone he's not, even if his lonely soul was aching to be accepted by this stranger, the only one to touch him with kindness and concern.

Wonder of wonders, the painful answer to that query filled his mind and resonated from the gaping ruin of his face. &lt;No. I...am...Jonothon...Starsmore.&gt;

The stranger completely broke down at that reply, having confirmed his worst fears. "Oh, Pere!" he sobbed. "Je vous ai manqué! Je suis tellement desole!"

Jono just stood there, uncertain. No one had ever given him comfort before. How could he offer it when he did not know how? Or whether it would be welcomed from the...monster...he had become?

"Did you find him, Gambit?"

Jono almost jumped out of his skin at that deep, strong voice. Warily, he looked behind the weeping soldier, only to gasp as he beheld the Devil himself, clad in dark blue and black battle armor with arching ebony metal strips for a cape. The red diamond on his brow flashed as his eyes alighted with intense interest upon the frightened and confused youth.

The soldier bowed, lifted his glasses a bit, and hastily wiped his eyes dry on his coat sleeve. As he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his fine nose, he answered his superior, "Oui, Monsieur, mais...he is not de one I'm searchin' for. Christien...he did not survive."

"I'm sorry," the Devil said in apology which, to Jono, was completely devoid of sincerity. "I had assumed that Christien would be gifted like you and that it was he who caused..." A shake of the head. "I guess I was wrong. But the boy you found..." He looked Jono over from head to toe appraisingly. "...We'll bring him back with us to London. Do something about his...appearance, will you? And hurry. We must leave before Xavier's men arrive."

"Oui, Monsieur," the soldier called Gambit acknowledged as his superior walked away. When they were alone again, he turned back to Jono, rubbing the youth's arms reassuringly, "Things are going to be bien now, Jono. I may call you dat, oui? Mais, is dis..." His fingertips gingerly touched the blazing inferno where the boy's chest had been. "Are ya...in pain?"

Jono shook his head. &lt;Actually, it...tickles...a bit.&gt;

Gambit smiled at that, a tendril of raw energy slithering over his palm and between his fingers. "Oui, it does tickle." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a rolled up leather strap, which he gently wrapped around the lower half of Jono's face. He then removed his coat and bade the boy to put it on, buttoning it up to conceal the ravaged torso.

&lt;Are yer...goin' ter hang me?&gt; Jono inquired softly.

Gambit jerked up in surprise. "Now why would we do dat?"

&lt;I'm a monster. I...I caused all this death an' destruction. I don't understand why yer aren't afraid o' me.&gt;

"Did da you do dis..." Gambit gestured to the devastation around them. "...Deliberately?"

&lt;No, I...&gt; Jono's hands clenched into fists. &lt;...But I lost my temper an'...the next thing I knew...&gt;

"An' why did ya lose your temper?"

&lt;My stepfather...he was beatin' me again.&gt;

Gambit's mouth was a tight grim line as he said firmly, "Den you're no monster. What I see before me is a weary boy who's had enough of pain an' suffering. It's just a tragic coincidence dat your powers manifested at dis time. You must not blame yourself for dis."

Tears began to flow from Jono's dark eyes. &lt;I tried to pull it back! I swear I did! But I couldn't stop it!&gt;

"I know ya tried hard to prevent dis from happening. Merci Dieu! I'm glad ya did not succeed. If ya had, you'd be dead."

Jono dropped to his knees, clutching the sides of his head, as the burden of guilt became too heavy for him to bear. &lt;For a monster like me, death is the only punishment that I deserve.&gt;

For a minute or two, Gambit just stared at his weeping, broken form. With a heavy sigh, he took off his glasses and turned around, taking what looked like a deck of cards from out of his trousers pocket.

"Let me tell ya somethin', petit," he began with measured slowness, causing Jono to look up just in time to see three cards in Gambit's hand begin to glow with an eerie pink aura. He hurled the cards, sending them in three different directions. Jono gasped in shock as a ruined chimney exploded, the remains of a cottage obliterated, and two burned corpses lying beside a charred wagon disintegrated into ash.

When Gambit turned to look at him once more, there was such heart-wrenching sorrow in his unearthly ebony and crimson eyes. How could such demonic orbs convey emotion with greater eloquence than human eyes?

"You're not de only one who's a monster, Jono," Gambit said to him with a sad little smile on his face. "Mais, if ya want to atone for what ya did to dem, den you must live. Use de power dat you have to save lives, so dat dis..." He swept his arms to the devastation surrounding them. "...Will not happen again."

&lt;But how? How can I do that? I don' even know what this power is! What if I make another mistake just like this?&gt;

Jono lifted his gaze to behold a hand held out to him. As he looked into those demon eyes, Gambit answered, "Den swear dat ya won't make de same error again, an' ya stand up with your head held high in newfound determination. An' if ya should fall again, don't worry. I'll be dere to catch ya."

The youth stared at his savior, awe-struck. &lt;How could yer be so kind an' merciful to someone like me?&gt;

"Perhaps because I too received kindness an' mercy in de past." There was painful grief in Gambit's next words. "An' perhaps because I have lost de little brother I've been sent here to find. I see no reason why I couldn't love ya in his stead."

Those gentle words peeled away the scab that had hardened his heart. With an anguished wail, Jono threw himself into the soldier's arms.

As he bawled like a child in the older man's embrace, Jono could feel Gambit's fingers combing tenderly through this hair, and whispering, "Dat's it, petit. Cry it all out. From now on, Remy swears dat he will protect ya."

It was a promise that Remy steadfastly kept as Jono entered Essex's household and became immersed in the questionable affairs of the M Regiment. Those early weeks in London were shaky times though.

Jono had been well aware of the fact that he was a beautiful boy, and it would've been possible that he would've grown up to be a strikingly handsome young man. He had been banking on his good looks to get him out of that God-forsaken town.

But that was before the accident.

Jono never realized just how much his beauty meant to him, until the other members of the M Regiment – more often it was Sabretooth, less often but with greater insidiousness was Malice – began teasing him for his grotesque physical appearance with the infuriating relentlessness of magpies.

"Ya still got a face under there, right, Sparky?" Creed would crow in devilish glee.

Remy would hear these and other similar catcalls and roll his eyes upwards. Noticing his young ward bristling like a sparking hedgehog, he would sagely advise, "Don' let dem get to ya, petit. Dey used to do dat to me on account o' my eyes, mais dey soon got tired o' de game."

However, a young man – still grieving for his lost beauty – could only take so much ridicule.

Essex had not been very happy when the west wing of the mansion had been blown to oblivion during an impressive display of Jono's incendiary temper. No one dared to tease him after that for fear of incurring Essex's terrible wrath, not to mention the unspoken dread of Le Diable Blanc's fury.

It was Scalphunter who revealed to him in confidence, "You know, by my estimate, you probably destroyed only a third of the west wing. Remy had just dug you out from the debris when Creed said something that raised the hackles on our dear Cajun. Needless to say, Diable sent the remaining two-thirds crashing down on Sabretooth's head."

Le Diable Blanc... The members of the M Regiment always speak of him as though he were a separate entity rather than just Remy's alter ego. In his personal opinion, Jono found it difficult to believe that a calm, cheerful and mild-mannered gentleman like his guardian was capable of acts of rage.

However, in the short time that he had known him, Jono had yet to see Remy in his persona as the infamous thief. One time, he had tried to eavesdrop in a briefing between Essex and Diable, but when he pretended to stumble through the study door, Essex was all alone, and only the open window marked Remy's departure. The Colonel would feign surprise at his abrupt entry and scold him, but Jono knew that Essex had been aware of his presence outside. Worried about the Cajun, he would stay up for most of the night, waiting, until Remy would come into their bedroom at daybreak and regale him with stories from his evening exploits.

Strange, thought Jono, that Remy would always return to him refreshed from his nightly pursuits, either dressed in a sleeping robe or in his uniform ready for the work ahead. Not once did he find the nerve to ask him about Le Diable Blanc. But now that Remy had a few days off, perhaps he could at last have the opportunity to know more about the notorious thief.

Jono beamed at his reflection in the mirror as he tied the cravat around his neck. He wondered if the light ash gray silk shirt and black trousers he had chosen to wear was too elegant for a day that was going to be spent baking pastries in the kitchen.

Then again, Remy had said to him yesterday, "Ya know, petit. You shouldn't wear black all de time. Makes ya too gloomy, an' it draws too much attention to your bandages. Why not try lighter colors? Ya have pretty brown eyes, like a deer." The two men had even spent much of the day rummaging through the Cajun's closet, undisturbed by Essex or the other Marauders.

Or so Remy thought. Jono never told his guardian – who was then inside the bath trying to wash away a stain from a sky blue shirt – that Essex had come looking for him. Up to now, he could not stop himself from grinning at the memory of the surprise on the perverted Colonel's face when he had slammed the door shut and locked it.

&lt;To hell with yer, Essex,&gt; the youth mused in fiendish amusement and determination. &lt;Yer can keep yerself busy with yer guest. I'm keepin' Remy all to myself.&gt;

Whistling merrily, Jono hurried outside their suite, going through the hallway leading to the staircase. Remy had not been inside their room when he woke up, so he figured that the older man had gone down to the kitchen ahead of him.

Skipping down the stairs, he headed straight for the east wing where the kitchen was located. It did not occur to him that the wing was strangely deserted when it should have been a busy time of the day. Arriving at his destination, he frowned, seeing the doors closed.

Jono stiffened when he heard Remy's soft moan coming from inside, followed by a low displeased growl that was unmistakably Sabretooth's.

"Monsieur, s'il vous plait. Don't torment me like dis."

His eyes narrowing into angry slits, the youth was about to push the doors open and interrupt whatever was going on inside, only to have a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder. Whirling, Jono found himself facing a grinning Malice. She was holding a sketchbook in her right hand.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," the M Regiment major advised. "Essex would be very displeased if you interrupt his business."

Jono shrugged her hand off. &lt;Remy is MY business, an' whatever it is they're doin' in there, I intend ter put a stop to it.&gt;

Undaunted by that threat, Malice gripped his wrist tightly and led the protesting boy away. "Don't be a fool! Do you want to jeopardize all that Remy has done for you so far?"

&lt;I KNOW what Remy's been doin' for me, an' it makes me sick that ya're all usin' him like he's yer plaything,&gt; Jono argued as he tried to wrench his hand free from her grasp to no avail.

"A sacrifice that he has been making willingly on your behalf. But, do you know that our dear Cajun doesn't need to make this noble gesture...considering that you yourself are perfectly capable of meeting Essex's price?"

&lt;If yer sayin' that I should use my powers ter kill, then never! I promised Remy! I will not break my work ter him!&gt;

Malice burst into laughter as she dragged Jono to Scalphunter's security office nearby. "Oh, we all know about your silly oath. Oaths are for cowards who would not use the immense power that they possess. I have a different form of recompense in mind."

Jono had visited Grey Crow's office a few times and he never had the compulsion to peer into the many scopes that snaked from the walls and ceilings, which gave the officer perfect views of every nook, cranny and hole in Wyndgate. Fiercely protective of his privacy, it was his opinion that what people did – whether out in the open or in the relative security of their own chambers – was their business and not his.

Until now...

Malice, however, was determined to test the young man's resolve. Sauntering over to one scope near Scalphunter's bookcase, she flipped its cover open and pulled out a thin wire with a plug on one end. She gestured enticingly to the scope with her left hand while holding the plug out to him with her right.

Jono stared at her grinning face, and then at that waving hand. He did not have to know what Remy was doing with Essex. The encounter with Sabretooth at Graymalkin Estate was still fresh in his mind. He felt no compelling need to see another, and with someone he absolutely detests like Essex. But...what was Creed doing in there with them?

His body betrayed him before he realized it was doing so, moving much too quickly and much too eagerly, covering the distance between him and the Major in just three strides. He stuck the plug inside his right ear and then bent down to peer into the scope. His eyes immediately flew wide in shock.

The scope inside the kitchen was situated in a corner where the pots and pans hung on beams. No one would think it was a scope, because it resembled one of five pipes that brought water into the kitchen.

Because of its position, Jono had a perfect view of a tied and blindfolded Remy lying completely naked on top of the kitchen table, writhing and moaning as Essex's head bobbed up and down his crotch. Sabretooth stood in the corner, face strangely rigid as he watched the shameless display before him, a distinct bulge in the front of his trousers.

Essex's face was flushed with desire as he pulled away briefly to tie a ribbon at the base of the Cajun's hard member and bollocks, keeping him painfully erect.

"Oh, Monsieur!" Remy whined, begging, as he twisted his hips. "Don' be cruel! S'il vous plait, let me come!"

"Not just yet, Remy my boy," Essex said grinning as he pulled a chair over. "I'm not done impressing upon Creed here why he should treat my property with great care."

Belying his own words, Essex yanked Remy up and settled the younger man on his lap, facing Creed, practically impaling him on his massive length. Jono gritted his teeth as Remy cried out in surprise and pain.

"I don't understand why you persist in sating your animal lust through brutal penetration," Essex told a growling Sabretooth. "You're a man, Creed, not a beast."

"What can I say?" Sabretooth began with a shrug. "I've always preferred instant gratification because of the life we lead. But, with more time, who wouldn't want to...savor...the pleasures of the flesh?"

_And the blood,_ Jono thought grimly, remembering how Creed had licked the blood from Remy's thighs after savagely plundering the Cajun's flesh that night of the party at Graymalkin Estate. _Yer nothin' but a monster!_

Essex must have read Jono's mind for he countered Creed, "That is the beast speaking, not the man." He let his large hands run over the Cajun's tanned skin, eliciting shallow pants from the younger man's lips. "A beast would now know the delights that a beauty like this has to offer."

Creed forced his mouth into a leer as he watched Essex fondle the Cajun's pectorals and tweak the swollen nipples. "Why don't ya let Gambit offer himself to ya, let him display his assets?"

The Colonel knew what Sabretooth was implying, judging from the sudden darkening of his features. But he quickly recovered and grinned. "We had tried that," he said in genuine frustration, growing even more aroused at Remy's luscious whimpers at his not-so-tender ministrations. "But for some strange reason, my fiery Cajun cannot seem to arouse himself through self-stimulation. A disappointment, really."

"Monsieur, ya know I can't," Remy mumbled, craning his neck back to lick a trickle of sweat from the curve of Essex's jaw. "I'm not an onanist."

"And yet you commit the greater sin of sodomy," Creed mused aloud. "Or would ya only debase yourself in the presence of someone you love?"

Remy paused for a moment as the words seemed to strike home. Slowly, he faced Sabretooth, his red on black eyes glowing with an unearthly light. With a lascivious leer on his lips, he stated, "Dere is no room for love in de M Regiment, only duty, an' to accomplish one's duty by any means possible."

Essex caressed the younger man's face, visibly pleased with his answer. "Well said, Remy. Well said."

Jono watched the three men, transfixed. _No, Remy. Yer can't be doin' this! Not for me!_

But Malice inched close to him and whispered in his ear, "Do you see now what he does for you? He's a splendid whore, our Cajun."

&lt;Don't call him a whore!&gt; Jono declared in indignation, glaring at the Major, his psionic flames flickering underneath his bandages.

"Oh, but he is, and so much more," Malice confirmed, giving him a knowing grin. "I know that Essex is incapable of human emotion, the price he had to pay for the power he now possesses. But Remy has the ability to arouse him...perhaps even to manipulate him to do his will. See how easily he plays Creed as well."

Sure enough, through the plug in his ear, Jono heard Remy say next, "Let's not torment Monsieur Chatton any further. Let him suck me. I don' mind. I can take ya both."

&lt;Remy, no!&gt; Jono cried, peering into the scope just in time to see Sabretooth get down on his knees between the Cajun's spread legs.

To his horror, the two men began to plunder Remy's body like ravenous beasts. And – Curse him! – the Cajun was smiling, drawing Essex and Sabretooth into his sensual spell. So powerful was his spell that Jono felt himself growing hard.

"You're a comely young man, Jono," Malice continued, flipping open her sketchbook. "Anyone could see that even through the profile of your bandages. Do you know that, with your psionic powers, you can seduce Essex. Remy need not make this sacrifice for you. The question is do you have the courage to do what must be done to get your beauty back? Or are you content to let our dear Cajun do all the dirty work for you?"

As she said this, Remy turned to gaze at the scope, his crimson and ebony eyes widening in shock and shame, realizing who was watching him. Jono whirled away then, only to be confronted by a sketch of his handsome face as it would look if he were still whole.

Overwhelmed by disgust and shame with himself, Jono pushed Malice aside as he fled from the room. He did not stop running, not even while descending the stairs. On and on, Jono ran – out the mansion doors, out the iron gates, and into the streets, unmindful of the curious stares from the people he passed by. All he wanted was to get away.

But the sight he had seen would not leave him. The shame of knowing that Remy had been selling his body and soul to Essex for his sake. The guilt that he too had been aroused by the sensual beauty of his guardian.

"HALT!"

That command stopped Jono dead in his tracks. He blinked in confusion at the high stone walls and the arched gateway before him. Two guards blocked his path with their muskets.

One of the guards must have noticed the blank look in his eyes because he asked in a demanding tone, "You're at the X Regiment Headquarters. What business do you have here, son?"

_The X Regiment?_ Jono was even more confused. _I don't even know how ter get to this place! How? Why..._

Jono's hands flew to his chest, only to discover that he had left his notebook and pencil behind at Wyndgate. Except for that moment in his ruined hometown, never had he felt so lost. He dared not use his psionic speech for fear of what the guards might do to him.

"Jono?"

That familiar voice caused Jono's heart to skip a beat. He looked up to see Bobby beyond the gateway, body bent over and panting for breath as though he had run from somewhere far away.

To hell with the guards! With a choked sob, he dashed past the guards, wanting nothing more than to throw himself into the comfort of the young lieutenant's arms.

"JONO! LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!"

It was a definite warning. Jono knew that. He also knew that he should have ducked. Instead, he slowly found himself turning to see who or what was behind him. Then, something hit him right between the eyes, and all he saw was red followed by black.

 

 

Bobby was industriously shining his coat buttons with a cloth wet with his spit, trying in vain to ignore a grinning Logan, who was chugging on a cigar.

"Ya know, you could shine those buttons better usin' stale bread moistened with piss," Logan suggested, all too eagerly it seemed. "I could piss on a loaf for ya."

Bobby gave his superior a baleful glare. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time? Shouldn't you be pestering a certain Cajun from the M Regiment?" He waved his hand in emphatic dismissal. "Shoo! Scram!"

Before he knew what was happening, Logan had his neck in a chokehold and was thumping his head with his large hand, so that the thick powder on his wig flew everywhere.

"I'm gonna wring your scrawny neck!" Logan declared in grievous affront. "What do ya think I am? A dog?"

"Well, you're certainly no wolf!" Bobby retorted, as he tried to keep his poor wig in place. "What in tarnation is a 'wolverine' anyway? I asked my friend Proudstar once what it was and he told me it didn't look like no wolf. He said it looked like a vicious groundhog."

"That's it! That's a low blow, Frosty!" growled Logan. With one claw, he sliced his lieutenant's wig in half.

Bobby grimaced as he caught the two halves of his ruined wig in his hands. "Darn it! You didn't have to destroy it. Now, I have to buy a new one. And I spent so much time brushing and powdering it last night."

Logan released the younger man, who sagged despondently to the floor. "Why are you so impeccably dressed this morning any way? I never thought it possible that a ragamuffin like you could ever look anywhere decent."

"Hmph! Since I'm off today, I'm planning on going to Wyndgate Estate to visit Jono. I want to convey, in person, my thanks for the pastries he sent me."

A dark bushy eyebrow was raised. "Really? I never knew you've got guts. But I personally wouldn't recommend it. If ya don't get shot to bits by Scalphunter or Malice, Sabretooth will most likely chew on you like a bone."

Bobby let out a dismissing snort as he transformed into his ice form. In doing so, a bone deep chill filled the entire room, so that Logan began to shiver and his breath came out as white puffs.

With arms akimbo, the lieutenant known as Iceman burst into arrogant laughter. "I'd like to see anyone try to chew on me when I'm like this! They'd lose all their teeth!"

&lt;I'M SORRY!&gt;

That mental cry cut Bobby's laughter short, nearly causing him to drop to his knees at its head-splitting force. Unable to speak for a moment, he turned to Logan questioningly, only to see that the Captain too had turned pale.

Having met only two of the X Regiment's resident telepaths so far, he asked, "Captain? Is it Lady Jean? Or is it Colonel Xavier?"

Logan shook his head, frowning. "No, it's someone else. The mental signature is not from anyone I know in the X Regiment." He did not tell the younger man that the cry of distress was unintentionally directed at him, a clear sign that, whoever it was, he or she was connected to Bobby in some way.

Instead, Logan suggested, "Bobby, do you remember what Jean taught you? Try to home in on the origin of that cry with your mind. See if you could coax whoever it is to come to you."

There was uncertainly on Bobby's face. "I don't know if I could do that. I'm not a telepath. All of those sessions with Lady Jean gave me headaches that were worse than hangovers."

"Just do it, will ya?" Logan growled impatiently.

Still unsure of himself, the lieutenant, nevertheless, obeyed his superior, closing his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Logan had to stop himself from chuckling at the sight of Bobby's pursed lips, which resembled a constipated dog's ass.

&lt;That's not a nice thought, Logan,&gt; that giggling remark filled his mind. &lt;The boy is really trying so hard.&gt;

&lt;So, you heard it too, Jean?&gt; Logan inquired from his old flame.

&lt;So did the Colonel,&gt; Jean confirmed. &lt;I could have made my presence felt by whoever it is. His mental anguish just tugged at my heart. But it wouldn't be right, knowing that the person he or she is reaching out to is obviously Bobby.&gt;

Logan turned to Bobby's pinched, twisted features, which now truly looked like a canine's fundament. &lt;Maybe you could give the boy a hand. I don't think I could hold my laughter any longer.&gt;

&lt;No need, Logan.&gt;

As Jean said this, Bobby's eyes popped open and he raised his head, his face bright with sudden recognition. All he said was a surprised "Oh!" and then he dashed out the door. Logan swiftly gave chase, jumping right out of their window to the ground below – startling some officers passing by – just as Bobby exited from the front door on his ice slide. Bobby only stopped when he reached the southwest gate, and reverted back to his normal form. Beyond the gate, Logan saw that the guards were blocking a young man from entering.

A young man with the lower half of his face and neck – perhaps his entire body underneath his light gray shirt – covered with bandages.

"Jono?" Bobby spoke the name in confirmation.

There was no mistaking the look of desperation and relief in Jono's eyes at the sound of Bobby's voice, so that he dashed in between the guards, running toward the lieutenant.

But, unknown to all, including the guards, there was someone more vigilant manning the gate.

Logan ran for the tiny figure behind Jono, hoping to stop him before he could fire the small arrow he had nocked in his bow.

Just as Bobby cried "JONO! LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!" the arrow was released, hitting Jono – who had the misfortune of turning around to see who or what was behind him – right between the eyes. Although the toy arrow bounced off his brow, the blow was sufficient to knock Jono out, right into Bobby's arms.

Logan grabbed little Jay Guthrie before he could fly away. Glaring at the trembling winged toddler, he said, "Icarus, I don't know if I should give you a commendation for shooting first and asking questions later." To the guards, he declared, "Lieutenant Drake and I will take over from here."

As the guards returned to their post, the Captain turned to Bobby, who was cradling an unconscious Jono in his arms. "Let's take him back to our barracks."

Bobby only nodded as he lifted the younger man into his gentle embrace.

 

 

Two hours later, Jono was jolted awake by a throbbing pain between his eyes. Sitting up, his fingers gingerly touched the lump on his forehead.

&lt;Oww! What hit me?&gt;

"_This_ is what hit you, kid," a gruff voice tinged with humor replied.

Jono blinked at the remorseful little cherub – his face covered with the silliest war paint designs Jono had ever seen – dangling from Captain Logan Howlett's hand.

"Jay here must've been playin' Indians with his sister Paige. Knowin' how intense Paige could be about anything military, I wouldn't be surprised if she somehow convinced him to ambush anyone suspicious trying to get into X Regiment Headquarters. I certainly heard that these two are dead set against havin' a certain Wade Wilson join the regiment, so they've been tryin' to stop the fellow from sneakin' into headquarters." To the winged toddler, Logan growled, "Say you're sorry, brat. You can see dis guy ain't Wade. I don' even know why you an' Paige hate the poor fellow. I mean, he does tell good jokes from time to time. In any case, you should consider yourself lucky that your arrow had a blunted tip or else it would've pierced Jono's skull."

Jay's entire body sagged, his reddish brown wings falling limp. Big fat tears began falling down his cheeks.

Jono found himself moved by those tears. Fearing that the child would be punished, he quickly said, &lt;No harm done, sir. I accept Jay's apology. Please, sir. Don't hurt him.&gt;

"We don't hurt children in the X Regiment, Jono," Bobby put in, handing him a cup of ice cold water. "Why? Did someone hurt you when you were little?"

&lt;Yes, but it was my fault...&gt; Jono stopped in mid-sentence, realizing that he was speaking to the two men with his psionic voice.

Sensing the younger man about to retreat into silence, Bobby exclaimed, "Oh no you don't! Please do continue speaking to us mind-to-mind. Captain Logan and I aren't afraid. In fact, we're used to it. Besides, I don't think you have your pencil and paper on you."

Jono blinked at Bobby shyly. &lt;Are yer sure yer don't mind?&gt;

"Of course not! In fact, I like your voice. It's so deep and warm."

Seeing those timid brown eyes on him, Logan smiled reassuringly. "I agree with Bobby. I know most normal people would be terrified to have someone speaking to them in their heads, but not us. While you're here at the X Regiment, feel free to just be yourself."

&lt;Thank you, sir,&gt; Jono said in sincere gratitude, tears of joy and relief filling his eyes. &lt;Remy did tell me how wonderful the people in the X Regiment are.&gt;

"You know Remy?" Logan found his curiosity piqued. He switched a sobbing Jay into a sitting position on the crook of his arm. "You're from M Regiment then."

&lt;Yes, sir. Colonel Nathaniel Essex...he's...a distant uncle,&gt; Jono spoke the distasteful lie between gritted teeth. &lt;But because he's so busy with regimental affairs, it's Remy who's been takin' care o' me. He's...he's like a brother I never had an'...&gt;

The memory of what he has witnessed earlier filled Jono with terrible shame and he found himself burying his face in his hands, crying.

Logan felt his heart give a lurch at Jono's unexpected emotional display. He was about to pry, but Bobby shook his head, sitting down beside the younger man and rubbing his back soothingly.

Seeing that he needed to give the two young men some privacy, Logan announced, "Listen, I have some important inquiries to make today, so I'll be leaving you two alone. Oh..." He plunked a sniffling Jay on a surprised Jono's lap. "...And please keep that little brat out of any mischief."

For a few seconds, Jono gaped down at the red-faced toddler. Then, he wrapped his arms around Jay and, kissing the child on the brow, pulled him close to his body.

Pleased with himself, Logan picked up his tricorne. Before he could leave, Jono's mind voice made him pause.

&lt;Captain Logan?&gt;

"Yes, son?"

&lt;I...I know that we just met an'...I 'ave no right to impose upon yer good will. But...please, sir! Take care of Remy for me! I...I...&gt; Jono's hands closed into fists. &lt;I'm helpless! I can't do anythin' for him!&gt;

Clapping his hat on his head, Logan laid a reassuring hand on Jono's shoulders, only to be surprised by the sensation of electricity prickling his palm. Ignoring this curiosity, he said gently, "Don't sell yourself short, kid. In fact, I kinda envy you that you could be with Remy at M Regiment. But even if ya don't ask, I'll take care of him while he's with us. Gumbo...he kinda grows on ya. Just like you."

A blushed tinged Jono's high cheekbones at that compliment. &lt;Is that what yer call Remy? Gumbo? He never told me that. I bet he's furious!&gt;

"Nah!" Logan said flippantly. "He's actually gotten used to it quite quickly." With a final admonition of "You three stay out of trouble" and a poke at Jay's little nose to emphasize the warning, the Captain left them alone.

When Logan was gone, Jono quietly confessed, &lt;Now I understand why Remy likes him so much.&gt;

"No, I should be the one thanking Remy for keeping my Captain company," Bobby countered. "Although he's a respected officer in the X Regiment, he only has a few friends. Most people are afraid of him, especially after what happened to him in America."

&lt;Why? What happened in America?&gt;

"It's not my story to tell, unfortunately," Bobby replied in sorrow. "Terrible things have been done to Captain Logan which...changed...him, which brought out a side of him that he had long tried to suppress, and which led to tragic consequences. Since then, Logan has kept himself distant from most people, for fear that he might do them harm."

He faced Jono and smiled. "But not Remy. That night we met, when I went inside the mansion to get us some food, it was Remy who approached the Captain. That was the first time in years that I've seen a genuine smile light up his face."

&lt;I understand how yer feel,&gt; Jono nodded, rocking and cuddling a humming Jay who was playing with an arrow he had somehow managed to yank out of his quiver. &lt;Remy would do anythin' ter make me happy. But...&gt;

"Did something happen to Remy, Jono? You can tell me. I promise I won't tell anybody, not even the Captain."

&lt;I...I can't,&gt; Jono shook his head, still stricken with shame and guilt.

Jay mumbled questioningly as a tear fell on his cheek. He reached up a tiny hand to wipe away the wetness from Jono's face.

&lt;Remy has been doing so much for me, an' yet I couldn't do anythin' for him. I would willingly take his place in all those...tasks...that the Colonel makes him do.&gt; Jono could not bring himself to say the adjective 'disgusting'. &lt;But my injuries...or...or maybe I'm just usin' my injuries as an excuse so I wouldn't have ter...the duties in the M Regiment.&gt;

"Jono, I asked you this once, but maybe it would be better if Dr. McCoy had a look at you," Bobby began cautiously. "Or if you like, you could show me, so I could describe them to Hank."

&lt;No!&gt; Jono crossed his arms over his bandages. &lt;If yer see... No, Bobby! I can't bear ter see the horror an' disgust on yer face if I show yer what I really look like!&gt;

There was a moment's silence between them. Then, Bobby carefully began, "How about I show you the real me?"

Saying this, the young lieutenant changed into his ice form. Jono's eyes were as round as platters as he timidly touched a chilly arm.

&lt;But you're beautiful!&gt; Jono exclaimed in awe. &lt;Like an ice sculpture. You're nothing like me.&gt;

Seeing that it would be more difficult to make his point across to the younger man, Bobby reverted back to his normal appearance and confessed, "That first time we met, I knew how silly and frivolous I must have appeared to you. That's what most people say about me."

&lt;That's not true! Whoever those blokes are they're bloody idiots!&gt; Jono argued in vehemence.

"But..." Bobby cut in. "You kept me company the whole night. You listened to my rambling, tried to keep up with my chatter by scribbling those little notes of yours. I bet you were tempted to speak with me mind-to-mind even back then."

&lt;The notion never crossed my mind. I loved listenin' ter yer talk. No one ever talked ter me as much as yer did, except for Remy of course. Ya weren't daunted at all by my inability ter speak ter yer then.&gt;

A smile lit up Bobby's lips as he seized the moment. "That's because you spoke to me with your eyes. You have the most beautiful and expressive brown eyes I've ever seen, Jono. When I look into them, I completely forgot all about your bandages."

&lt;Flatterer!&gt; Jono mumbled and turned away before Bobby could see his blush, only to behold the pastry he had baked for the lieutenant encased in solid ice on the tabletop beside the bed.

The question he was going to ask immediately flew away as Bobby whispered in his ear, "That's how much I value you and everything that you give me, Jono."

For what seemed like a breathless eternity, the two young men just stared at each other – Jono wondering if Bobby was speaking true, and Bobby hoping that he was conveying the sincerity of his heart through his own eyes and warm smile.

A sharp jab between his ribs caused Bobby to let out a surprised yelp to be followed by an equally shocked cry from Jono. Looking down, they saw a glaring little Jay, an arrow poised to jab at them again. The toddler was displeased by being squished by the two men.

"Looks like we just got hit by Cupid," Bobby whispered, chuckling, as he leaned over to his beloved.

&lt;I guess you're right,&gt; Jono whispered, lifting Jay off his lap as he met Bobby's tender kiss with the outline of lips underneath his bandages.

Gurgling with delight, Jay gave Bobby and Jono the little privacy he could give them by clapping his hands over his eyes, but with index and middle fingers slightly parted so that he could still have a mischievous peek.

 

 

Night had already fallen when Bobby and Jono deposited a squealing and protesting Jay at Worthington's estate. Leaving the toddler in the good, but grudging hands, of Warren and a bemused Logan, the two boys set off on horseback to Wyndgate Manor.

&lt;You didn't have ter escort me all the way here, Bobby,&gt; Jono protested lamely for the umpteenth time as they entered the gates of the manor.

"I wouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't," Bobby replied, smirking. "A good thing too. Looks like everyone's been searching for you."

Sure enough, the officers of the M Regiment were all standing in the driveway, barking orders to their men who were obviously part of a search party. Seeing Jono with the X Regiment lieutenant, however, they dismissed their men. Jono could not help but feel disheartened, not seeing Remy among them.

"Where have you been, Jono?" Vertigo exclaimed, running toward them and helping Jono down from the horse. "Remy's worried sick about you!"

"You should be more worried about what the Colonel's goin' to do to you for pullin' this disappearin' act," Creed remarked, grinning, obviously looking forward to whatever punishment lay in store for the stubborn boy.

&lt;I thought yer an' Essex didn' want ter be disturbed,&gt; Jono spat back in psionic voice. &lt;Yer were certainly keepin' Remy busy!&gt;

It was a big mistake, Jono, realized, seeing the officers' eyes narrow, throwing swift glances at Bobby.

"Please, don't be angry with him," Bobby quickly put in. "Jono did not reveal his mental abilities to anyone except me." For some reason, he could not tell them that Logan also knew about his beloved's psionic powers.

"Is that so?" a deep sinister voice interjected. "And would you please tell me how you happened upon my dear nephew here, Lieutenant..."

"Drake, sir. Robert Drake," Bobby introduced himself, giving Essex a snappy salute. "I came upon Jono wandering lost in the city. He seemed upset about something, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. I'm afraid I kept on pushin' him and, the next thing I knew, he was yellin' at me inside my head to shut up."

All the while Bobby was giving his narration, he felt something probing his mind. He could only offer a wordless thanks to Lady Jean for teaching him to hide his true thoughts by projecting a mental image that coincided with the words that went out of his mouth.

"I see," Essex said thoughtfully. He knew that the lieutenant was lying, but he could not ascertain the facts because of the boy's mental shields. Essex went behind Jono and laid his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Thank you for bringing Jono home, Lieutenant. I hope he didn't give you any trouble." At that last word, he gave Jono's shoulders a painful squeeze, and felt the body beneath his palms stiffen.

"Oh, no trouble at all, sir. Jono and I got along just fine," Bobby dredged up some nerve from deep in his guts and blurted out, "In fact, sir, I would like to ask your permission if I could visit your nephew during my days off."

"Well, I certainly could not give you my permission at this point in time, considering the horrible scare that my nephew put us all through," Essex stated in faux sternness, although he was already entertaining thoughts on how he could manipulate the naïve lieutenant for his own ends. "But I promise I will send word to Colonel Xavier when it is all right for you to come and visit."

"Thank you, sir, but please don't be too hard on Jono. Now that I have brought him home safely, I should be heading back to the X Regiment." Bobby bowed to the Colonel and the M Regiment officers. "Pleased to make all your acquaintances."

"And it's a pleasure to meet you as well, Lieutenant Drake. Please give my regards to Colonel Xavier."

"Yes, sir, I'll do that."

As Bobby got on his horse, Jono broke free from Essex's grasp and hurried toward his lover.

Bending over to the younger man, Bobby said, "I'll be seeing you soon, Jono."

&lt;Not here, Bobby!&gt; was Jono's harsh mental whisper. &lt;I'll try ter find a way ter see yer, but not here!&gt;

"All right," the young lieutenant answered. Bobby did not need psionic powers to sense the fear in his beloved. "You take care, Jono."

"Yer too!"

Jono wanted to cry as he waved Bobby off and watched as the older boy rode out of the gates. He knew that a terrible punishment, but he never expected it to come so swiftly as a jerk on his arm, which forced him to turn around, and a hard fist to his face. Jono fell onto the pavement, clutching his aching cheek.

Above him, Essex had transformed into Mister Sinister, his eyes and the diamond on his brow ablaze with fury.

"I warned you many times never, ever try my patience!" Sinister snarled as he glared down at the helpless boy. "Now, you even consort with an officer of the X Regiment? Maybe I should rape your mind and turn you into a docile puppet."

As Sinister said this, ripping pain shot through Jono's mind. Clutching his head and curling up into a ball in a vain attempt to shield the mental blows, a pathetic semblance of a scream was wrenched from the gaping maw of his mouth.

"ARRETEZ!"

Strong mental shields suddenly slammed down like an iron door inside his head, halting the torment on his brain. Jono lay on the ground, panting heavily. Dazed, he did not notice the tall, dark figure who had Sinister's right wrist in a tight grip. The Colonel was about to hit Jono with his riding crop.

The stranger hissed furiously, "I only tolerate de things ya do to me because o' de boy. Mais, I have my limits. If I see ya hurtin' Jono again, don' expect me to feel any sense o' regret for what I'm goin' to do to ya. Do we have an understandin', Monsieur?"

Sinister glared at the other man, sharp white teeth bared in a snarl. "We shall have an understanding once you teach that boy to obey his elders. Patience was never one of my virtues. You know that, Diable."

_Diable?_ That name registered inside Jono's fogged mind. Gingerly, he eased himself up, only to freeze as the riding crop was hurled to the ground at his side.

"Temper, temper, Monsieur," the stranger said teasingly.

"You've been warned, Diable. Teach that boy his proper place. One more act of impertinence and I swear the both of you shall suffer my wrath," Sinister declared in finality as he reverted back to his form of Nathaniel Essex.

Turning his back on Diable, the Colonel stalked off with Creed and Malice. Only Scalphunter and Vertigo stayed behind.

Grey Crow waited until Essex was out of earshot before saying, "I do admire your reckless bravado, but do you honestly believe you can take him down?"

Diable shrugged noncommittally. "I don' know, John. De fact dat I was able to shield Jono's mind from his psychic attacks was a surprise to me too. I could only pray dat I wouldn' be forced to go up against him." At last turning to Jono, he asked, "Did he hurt ya bad, petit? Merci Dieu dat John saw ya arrive and went to get me. I'd been searchin' for ya again in de trainin' grounds out back an'...Jono?"

Jono was inching away from the terrifying wraith before him, his brown eyes as round as saucers reflecting their terror. His retreat, however, was halted by Vertigo, who knelt behind him and held his upper arms.

"What's the matter with you, Jono?" Vertigo asked. "It's Remy! I know he looks different, but surely you recognize his voice."

Grimacing, Scalphunter scratched his head. "I told you this would happen. You should have revealed this aspect of yourself to the boy early on. You don't want Jono to be ashamed of his appearance, and yet you don't show yourself to him when you're like this. Talk about teaching by example."

"Tais-toi!" Remy dismissed Grey Crow's scolding with an irritated wave of his hand. He gracefully fell to his knees like a settling shadow before the terrified boy. "Je suis desole, Jono, for deceivin' you like dis. What ya see before ya now is de other...curse...dat I bear. Dis form has its uses at night, dat is why, when I'm like dis, I go by de nom de guerre Le Diable Blanc."

Remy knew he was rambling, but he did not know what else to say to allay the boy's fears. He held out a pleading hand to his ward. "S'il vous plait, petit. Say something. Ya know it's me, oui? De last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me."

One moment, Jono was gaping at him, the next, he was sobbing in Remy's arms, hugging the older man so tight, not wanting to let go.

"Jono..."

&lt;I could never be afraid o' yer, Remy,&gt; Jono wept hard as he clung to his guardian. &lt;But...but...yer must hate me because...I saw...an' worse, I was...&gt;

"How could I hate ya for dat? If I had known dat you were watchin', I would never have subjected you to de full brunt o' my Charm," Remy whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Ya don' know how much it shamed me dat you witnessed..."

&lt;Remy, let's leave this place. Please! I won' 'ave yer whore yerself on my account. I don' want my face back if the price is the ruin o' yer body an' soul!&gt;

Seeing how distraught the boy was, Remy kissed Jono on the brow, pushing just a bit with his Charm to calm him. "I am known as Le Diable Blanc for a reason. My soul has long been condemned to perdition. Dis sacrifice I make for you is nothing. What is most important to me is dat you be given a chance at a normal life, something dat I was denied of."

&lt;But Remy...&gt;

"Now, where have ya been, petit?"

Seeing that he couldn't convince his guardian just yet, Jono replied, &lt;Bobby...I don' know exactly what happened after...yer know...but I just found myself at X Regiment headquarters.&gt;

Remy heaved a relieved sigh. "I should thank Bobby when I see him den, for takin' care o' ya." He plucked a reddish brown feather from Jono's hair. "I take it ya met little Jay Guthrie too."

Jono chuckled at the memory of the X Regiment's resident cherub. &lt;Jay mistook me for someone who's been desperately tryin' ter join the regiment an' hit me on the head with a blunt-tipped arrow.&gt;

The Cajun laughed at that. "Consider dat punishment enough for runnin' away an' scarin' me half to death."

&lt;I...I met Captain Logan too,&gt; Jono shyly added. &lt;I like him.&gt;

"I'm happy to hear dat," Remy said meaningfully. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Scalphunter surreptitiously digging through a small sack sitting underneath the elm tree. "John, if you're dat desperate for de illustrated copy o' _Fanny Hill_, give me de money to pay for it."

Grey Crow gave his friend a baleful glower and grudgingly withdrew his arm. Vertigo barely stifled her giggles with a hand over her mouth.

Remy took the sack and secured the ties, but not before pulling out the much coveted tome. He slung the sack over his shoulder.

"Well, I'm off to work," he announced. "Vertigo, please take care o' Jono for me. I would've preferred to stay with de petit, mais I have a reputation to repair."

Smiling, Vertigo patted Jono's shoulders. "Don't worry, Gambit. He's in good hands."

Remy gave Jono a playful wink, so out of place given the form that he was wearing now. "You be good, petit. I expect to see ya when I get home."

Jono gasped as Remy literally melted into the shadows, leaving only a book on the ground where he had stood.

A delighted Scalphunter picked up the copy of _Fanny Hill_, flipped it open, and planted a kiss right on an illustration of the heroine's voluptuous fanny.

"I love you, Remy!" Grey Crow called out, beating Jono in saying those three precious words.

At that moment, a breeze blew carrying with it the scent of sweet cakes as well as the impression of a faint kiss upon Jono's cheek.

&lt;Je'taime, Remy,&gt; Jono whispered, hearing the faint chuckles of the Cajun in the wind.

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION  
> 1\. Je vous ai manqué! = I have failed you!  
> 2\. Je suis tellement desole! = I am so sorry!  
> 3\. Arretez! = Stop!  
> 4\. Tais-toi! = Shut up!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Le Diable Blanc makes his appearance at last!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of the fact that I have a brand new computer, I bring you two new chapters of "Fraction of Truth". Unfortunately, I have a heavy workload this week, so I can't do any writing. But I'll try to have a new chapter of "Beauty And His Beast" up next week. The fact that I'm writing is part of an assignment that author Diana Gabaldon and the ladies at the Compuserve forum wanted me to try and squeeze in 2,000 words of fiction writing per day. Hopefully, I could come up with more fic chapters sooner than much later.

_DISCLAIMER: This story is a non-commercial work of fiction based on the Marvel comic book series X-MEN. All Marvel Characters and the distinctive likeness(es) thereof are Trademarks &amp; Copyright © 1941 - 2008 Marvel Characters, Inc. Absolutely no monetary gain has been made with this work._

 

**FRACTION OF TRUTH**

**© July 10, 2011 By Rory V. Pascual**

 

**CHAPTER SIX**

 

Remy LeBeau would never admit it to anyone – even to himself – that he always felt a deep, shameless exhilaration every time he assumed the formidable persona of Le Diable Blanc. As Diable, he could forget about his troubles and do whatever he wants. He was free…and powerful. He could feel the steady thrum of energies coursing through his body, eagerly waiting to be released.

 

"Be calm," he chuckled to his restless self, willing the impatient energies to be still. "Let me just enjoy de sight a bit."

 

At that moment, Remy stood on tiptoe on top of a guttering lamppost, one of many standing on opposite sides of London Bridge. A strong gust of wind carried the salty tang of sea water and human refuse from the River Thames, but failed to topple the Cajun from his precarious perch, perfectly balanced as he was thanks to his trusty bo staff.

 

Craning his neck back to glance at the bridge behind him, he saw that the shanties and shops that had once crowded the structure had been partially cleared away. Not wanting to live in London's slums, some poor residents had in recent years chosen to squat on the bridge itself, making passage across the river a difficult and dangerous endeavor because of the many thieves and cutthroats prowling the area. But with impending construction to be done on the bridge, the squatters had to be sent away. Only a few houses and shops remained, and even these were being torn down and the wood used to make them loaded into small carts to be taken to relocation sites where they would be rebuilt anew.

 

There was a frightened gasp at his feet, and Remy looked down to find a dirty-faced little girl goggling up at him.

 

Smiling, he reached inside his sack slung over his shoulder and produced a golden yellow pastry. Tossing it to the child, he said grinning, "Hungry, Petite? Dis one's on Diable."

 

Hunger has a way of making children forget their parent's constant warnings about talking to, and more so, accepting gifts from strangers. With a timid smile, she caught the pastry and began nibbling on it like a mouse, her eyes twinkling like stars.

 

"Want to see somethin' real pretty?"

 

As the little girl nodded, Remy took out five playing cards from his pocket and charged them, causing them to glow with a bright pink light. He then threw the cards over the river where they exploded into brilliant fireworks, the falling sparks in the shapes of card suits.

 

"ANNIE!"

 

Seeing the child's mother rushing toward them, Remy gave the girl a pat on the head. "You be good to your mere, Petite," he whispered.

 

With a graceful somersault, Remy leaped from the bridge. Freefalling for several feet, he charged his staff. The minute the tip of his staff touched the water's surface, the blast propelled the Cajun to the nearby bank.

 

"Bye!" he heard the little girl call to him from the bridge.

 

With a wave to the child, Remy hurried on to accomplish his errands.

 

 

 

"Are ya sure you're not hidin' something that you're not supposed to be sellin' in tha' bookstore o' yers?" the Irish constable of the local Watch asked bookseller Hubert Hargrave for the umpteenth time. "Like some dirty books?"

 

Hargrave swallowed hard before replying with his best smile, "My dear, sir! As I have told you a thousand times, I run an honest business. Why, some of my clientele even happen to be members of the nobility!"

 

That earned a suspicious silence from the constable, but Hargrave could feel the man's scrutiny like a hot beam upon his diminutive form.

 

Curse that useless ingrate of a clerk! It was his fault to begin with that an entire box of erotic novels had been stolen from the bookstore, having left the window to the storeroom open. Worse, instead of informing him, the clerk immediately brought the matter of the theft to the attention of the Watch. Hargrave could only thank his lucky stars that the boy did not know the contents of that box. He personally handled all transactions pertaining to adult-reading materials.

 

As they finally reached his shop, Hargrave fumbled with his keys and, finding the right one, inserted it into the keyhole of the front door. "I assure you, sir, I can re-order the books that were lost. I'm so embarrassed that my clerk had to bring this trivial matter up with the Watch and..."

 

But as he entered the shop, Hargrave felt the door push something aside. To his dismay, it was the constable who saw the pile of books that had toppled over when the door was opened. The constable's face darkened as he held up a mint edition copy of "Therese Philosophe" by Jean-Baptiste de Boyer, Marquis d'Argens. Tucked inside it was a note.

 

The bookseller turned as white as a sheet as the constable read the note aloud. "Dear Monsieur, I am returning to you these books of obscene fiction. A fool sought to steal said items in my name, and I thought to rectify the matter lest my reputation is completely ruined. Let it not be bandied about that the great Le Diable Blanc is a pervert. I pride myself in my impeccable tastes. Still, I have decided to keep two tomes – 'Fanny Hill' and the 'Kama Sutra' – because my associates refused to be parted with them. I leave two silvers as payment since they do not belong to me. Signed, Le Diable Blanc."

 

The constable turned a glowering eye toward the now trembling bookseller. "Come with me," he declared, grabbing the man by the collar of his coat.

 

All Hargrave could do was exclaim, "There must be some mistake! I never saw those books in my entire life! Diable must have planted those filthy books himself to incriminate me!"

 

"Explain that to the judge, ya wee pervert!"

 

 

 

Not too far away, the Madame of the brothel had just finished washing a brand new pair of silk pantalettes. As she marched off to her clothesline on the balcony, she tittered with delight at the memory of the notorious thief who had stolen her favorite pair of drawers. She wondered if Le Diable Blanc was pressing it to his handsome cheek right at that very moment.

 

"You're thinkin' dirty thoughts about me, aren't you, Madame," a dry, accusing voice suddenly spoke at her balcony.

 

The Madame gasped at the sight of the shadowy figure standing beside her old pantalettes, which was now fluttering on the line in the breeze.

 

"Je vous demande pardon for the intrusion, Madame, but I came to return what was stolen from you," the real Le Diable Blanc said with a courteous bow as he placed the last clothespin on the billowing undergarment. "Being a man of refined tastes, I do not steal lady's knickers. Thankfully, I was able to retrieve said item before de true culprit could turn it into a blanket."

 

"Blanket?" the Madame declared huffily at the insult. "Are you saying that I'm fat?"

 

"Well, my good manners refuse to state de fact bluntly, mais..." Diable threw a disdainful glance at Mother Martha's Eel Pies across the street. "Maybe you should eat less o' de swill dey serve over dere."

 

From the pie shop, the German proprietress yelled, "Habe ich gehort! I HEARD THAT!"

 

Before the Madame could blink, Le Diable Blanc bowed low before her, took her hand, and pressed his lips to her fingertips. Winking, the thief said, "It would be to de advantage of your health and beauty."

 

Just as suddenly as he appeared, Le Diable Blanc vanished in a cloud of pink smoke. The Madame sighed as her fingers tingled with that kiss. She could not stay angry for too long at such a kind-hearted young man.

 

"I will do as you say, Diable," she said into the night sky, a dreamy smile on her face.

 

 

 

As Dr. Henry McCoy entered his library, he knew that he had a visitor. With his very keen hearing, there was no mistaking the sounds of journal pages being turned. The rifling sounds stopped, however, as his presence was sensed.

 

"Oh, don't worry about me," McCoy said in reassurance, flapping his hand. "Just continue with what you're doing. I'll just sit right here and update my records of the patients I had seen today."

 

The good doctor was not expecting a reply. In fact, from his past experiences with his nightly visitor, he knew that his kind greeting would always be followed by a hasty departure through the window.

 

So, great was his surprise when a tray was laid before him with a steaming cup of tea and a plateful of enticing golden yellow pastries.

 

"You said earlier dat you were jealous o' de cakes dat Bobby received. I thought I'd bring a gift. I made dese myself."

 

"Oh my stars and garters!" McCoy gasped as he finally beheld Le Diable Blanc in the flesh. He hesitantly raised a hairy hand up, but hesitated, for fear of offending the smiling young man before him. "Is...is it really you?"

 

Diable took that hand and pressed it to his cheek, chuckling. "Don' be afraid, Monsieur. I don' bite."

 

"I told you to call me 'Henry', remember?" McCoy reminded him as he caressed that soft cheek and ran his fingers through those silky strands. He sank into his chair. "But how...why... Is this the reason why..."

 

"Non, Henry," Diable said with a shake of his head. "I have already come to accept dis aspect of me. As you have probably seen, it has its uses. De information I seek...it is for someone else."

 

"Are you talking about Jono? Bobby told me about him earlier."

 

"Oui," Diable admitted quietly. "I was hopin' dat I could find somethin' in your notes dat could help him. His injuries...dey are quite extensive, disfiguring..."

 

"I suspected as much when Bobby described to me how Jono looked – the bandages and all. But I would need to examine him here in my surgery." A grimace formed on the doctor's face. "From what I heard, Jono doesn't seem to trust doctors all that well."

 

The sudden silence that fell upon his young visitor was answer enough. Sighing, Diable replied, "It is not that he distrusts doctors, mais he has given up all hope dat he could ever be cured. His current...physician...has been tryin' mais, so far, he has been unsuccessful. Jono is also ashamed of his appearance. I have no doubt dat he was a beautiful boy before his accident. Dat's why he is distressed as well as depressed to show himself to people. He knows what their reaction to him would be."

 

McCoy nodded in agreement, being in the same position himself. It took years before he gained the trust of the human soldiers in the X Regiment. Getting to his feet, he laid his large hands on Diable's shoulders

 

"I want to help him if I can, but you must convince him to come see me," he urged firmly with a squeeze on those strong shoulders.

 

"Dat would be difficult, Monsieur," Diable admitted. "My...superior...is overprotective of Jono, an' of me. Jono himself will probably refuse. Mais, I will try."

 

"Just do your best," McCoy said with a reassuring smile. "I guess you'll be leaving now."

 

"Oui, I have one last errand to run dis evening."

 

"Not more thievery, I hope."

 

Diable laughed at that statement. "Non. It's de other way around dis time. I'm returnin' certain items dat were stolen in my name. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

 

"True, true!" McCoy laughed, patting the younger man's back. "But don't let yourself be caught, all right?"

 

"I'm always careful," Diable bowed to the doctor. "Merci, Henry."

 

"No, I should be thanking you that you have finally started talking to me. For awhile there, I thought you were mute."

 

"Henry, mon ami, I wonder if you could..." Diable faltered on his request.

 

"No, I won't tell anyone what we talked about. Even Colonel Xavier does not intrude upon my surgery."

 

Diable breathed in relief. "Merci. I must be goin' now." He was climbing through the window when McCoy spoke one last time.

 

The good doctor was holding up a golden pastry. "You really should give a name to this wonderful sweet cake. How about...Twinkie?"

 

Seeing how McCoy's eyes twinkled as he bit down on the cake, Diable agreed, "Twinkie, eh? Dat's a good name to me."

 

 

 

"Logan, I see you've been talking to Lord Odin there," Warren nudged an elbow in the diminutive Captain's ribs, as he pouted his lips in the direction of the stern bearded gentleman from Norway. "Don't you think he's a bit...off...in the head?" He even drew circles at his temples for emphasis.

 

Logan took a sip of his brandy and chuckled. "Everyone has his peculiarities, ya know that. Besides, Lord Odin is an excellent raconteur. Who am I to argue his claims of being the great Norse god of Asgard?"

 

Warren gazed dubiously at Odin, who was regaling the younger X Regiment officers with his exploits against the Frost Giants of Jotunheim. Shatterstar was, suffice to say, staring starry-eyed at the Norwegian lord, much to the chagrin of his lover Rictor. "I don't know. In my honest opinion, he's just a couple of steps closer to being admitted to the asylum. And did you see his little boy? He has this huge hammer slung to his back. I mean, how could he let a child carry such a heavy thing?"

 

"To develop strength and endurance, perhaps?"

 

"In a 3-year old?"

 

Logan gave the Earl of Michaelmas a reassuring pat. "Now, now, Warren. Don't be so overly suspicious. Lord Odin is one of our greatest allies after all."

 

"You can't blame me for being suspicious," Warren mumbled. "I came from the M Regiment, remember? Speaking of suspicious, don't you dare trust Lieutenant Gambit. I've seen the way you've been looking at him. He's an officer in M Regiment. That alone should tell you that he's up to no good."

 

Logan heaved a heavy sigh. "Let me deal with Gambit in my own way." It was only to himself that he reluctantly admitted that he missed the company of the Cajun, and it has only been two days. Wanting to change the topic, Logan let his eyes roam over the guests that have come to Warren's tea party. "Where's Thor, by the way? I don't see him anywhere."

 

"Probably playing with the other children," Warren remarked, and then his mouth flew open in a shocked 'O'. "You don't think he's braining them with his hammer now, do you?"

 

Warren's supposition could not be further from the truth, although there was one difference in detail. At that very moment, Thor, Paige and Jay Guthrie, and the Power children were glaring down at Wade Wilson, who was clutching his poor cranium which had met the full force of said mighty hammer.

 

"Zounds! Methinks this fool has a skull of granite!" Thor exclaimed, hefting Mjolnir – which was the same size as he – over his right shoulder. The little boy was wearing body armor and a red cape, but instead of breeches, he had on a bulky white diaper. "What say you, friend Alex? Shalt I deal him another blow?"

 

Alex Power quickly wagged his hands. "You're too young to commit murder, Thor, even if he is a trespasser."

 

"Can't you speak normally like the rest of us?" Paige asked the so-called "Thunder God", her brows knitted together in a frown.

 

"Why are you all picking on me like this?" Wilson let out a choked sob. "Why is everyone against my joining the X Regiment? I'm one of you!"

 

Julie Power looked down in pity at the poor man who was so determined to become a part of the X Regiment despite his obvious mental defects. "Mr. Wilson, please do understand. As much as the regiment admires your fortitude in wanting to enlist but, according to my father, you are...er...lacking in certain areas."

 

"You can say that again, dear sister," Jack Power bluntly agreed. He glowered down at Wilson. "I heard from Anthony Stark that his Daddy and Reed's Papa did some tests on you and the results said that you're a looney."

 

"That's not fair! Howard Stark and Nathaniel Richards only said that because they didn't have a sense of humor!"

 

"Yeah, right," little Katie Power put in, her arms folded over her chest. Beside her, Jay fluttered in the air in the exact same pose. "If you think you're that funny, how about giving us a joke?"

 

The children let out surprised shrieks as Wilson leaped to his feet, assuming a heroic pose. "Very well then! The great Deadpool shall regale you with an excellent piece of humor that will have you all rolling with laughter."

 

Unfortunately for Wilson, however, the joke was a ribald one about women and their nether parts which he had earlier heard from the grunts at the local tavern. The children instantly clapped their hands over their ears…except for Thor. As soon as Wilson spoke a forbidden word, he was immediately fried by a thunderbolt.

 

The children first grimaced in disgust at a charbroiled Deadpool before turning their heated gaze toward Thor.

 

"What? WHAT?" Thor exclaimed. "The foul fiend shouldst not talk of such perversities about women!"

 

"Again...can't you talk like a normal person?" Paige repeated in growing irritation.

 

Julie nudged her oldest brother in the ribs. "Thank God, Steven Rogers couldn't make it to the party tonight," she whispered. "He probably would've knocked Mr. Wilson's head from his shoulders with that huge shield of his."

 

"No, Steve wouldn't do that," Alex shook his head. "He has a calm demeanor, unlike Thor here. Then again, I'm still glad that neither he nor Tony Stark is here. Put these three together and lord knows what kind of trouble they could get into. They even have their own assembly cry – 'Avengers unite!' or something like that."

 

"Nah!" their little brother Jack countered at once. "Those three only get into trouble if Bruce Banner is with them, and Bruce loses his temper." He added sagely, "It's hard to like Banner when he's angry."

 

Just a few feet away from them, Lockjaw lay in a depressed stupor. The large bulldog was still pining for the jeweled collar that he had lost. He was supposed to be a guard dog. So, how could he have let that poor excuse of a thief steal his precious collar right from his neck?

 

There was a rustle in the bushes, and Lockjaw saw a dark-gloved hand beckoning to him. The dog sniffed in that direction and recognized the scent instantly. Using his powers of teleportation, Lockjaw vanished in the blink of an eye and landed right on top of Le Diable Blanc.

 

"Merde, Lockjaw!" Diable gasped, giggling, as the enormous bulldog began licking his face. "Stop dat!" As he sat up, he cradled Lockjaw on his lap, bussing the dog on his wrinkled forehead. "You know, you should stop dat poppin' in an' out. Dey'll think you're strange an' den you'll find yourself on Henry's dissection table. I wouldn' want my favorite pup lyin' in pieces. Anyway, I've got a surprise for ya, Petit!"

 

Feeling the familiar collar being buckled into place around his neck, Lockjaw whirled around and licked Diable happily.

 

"Oui, oui! I know you're happy dat you got your collar back," Diable laughed as he pushed the dog off him. He pinched Lockjaw's flabby jowls and looked him straight in the eyes. "Next time, though, if someone tries to steal it, give him a good chompin'."

 

Lockjaw tilted his head to the side and stared at him blankly.

 

Diable groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead. "I forgot. You don' bite people. What kind o' guard dog did Warren train you to be anyway? Well, I'd best be goin' before anyone sees me an'..."

 

Whatever he was going to say next was cut short by a tiny feathered figure that wrapped his chubby arms around his neck. Diable blinked down to behold a grinning Jay Guthrie.

 

"Oh, so it's you again, Petit." He could not help smiling at the little angel. "Sadly, I cannot play with you right now. I just came to return Lockjaw's collar."

 

"Confound it! Another trespasser! I must summon reinforcements! AVENGERS A..."

 

"NO!" Five pairs of hands clapped over Thor's mouth before he could make that rallying cry.

 

Diable's jaw dropped, seeing himself suddenly surrounded by hostile children. To his dismay, said children even began showing special abilities themselves.

 

Alex's hands began glowing with a wavy light, and Diable felt his legs growing heavy as iron because of the increasing pull of gravity. Julie was floating in the air, a rainbow trailing behind her. Jack transformed into a boy of solid rock, only to be one-upped by Paige, who literally tore off her skin to reveal gleaming metal, much like the X Regiment captain Colossus. Even little Katie was glowing brightly, as though she were ready to explode. But the child whom Diable was terrified of the most was Thor. The self-proclaimed, pint-sized Thunder God was twirling his hammer, creating a "whoop whoop" sound which drew dark thunder clouds above their heads.

 

Diable gave them his most enchanting grin. "Uh...in my defense...would it help if I tell ya dat I only came to return de dog's collar?"

 

With an indignant squeal, Jay fluttered before him, his pudgy arms stretched out protectively. Surprisingly, Lockjaw toddled over to his feet and plopped down with a huff, his tongue lolling out and drool dripping from his mouth.

 

"Dat your way of showing you're goin' to protect me, mon ami?" Diable looked dubiously at the bulldog. "Dat don' look very convincin' to me."

 

All six children hesitated at the sight of a furious Jay. Before they could decide on what to do next, Deadpool barreled through them, waving two sharp Japanese swords. "Stand back, little ones. I'll take care of this trespasser."

 

As Jay spritzed Wilson a juicy raspberry, Thor glowered at the red clad man beside him and reminded, "I think thou hast forgotten that thee art a trespasser yourself."

 

"S'il vous plait, mes amis!" Diable waved his hands frantically. "Dere is no need for violence here."  He then reached inside his sack, presented a bag filled with tasty pastries, and pushed his Charm power to the maximum. "Want some sweet cakes?"

 

In just a few minutes, the children – Wade Wilson among them – were munching eagerly on the golden treats.

 

At the sight before him, Diable scratched his head and sighed. "I never thought it would be dis easy."

 

"If ya think that, bub, then you're wrong."

 

Diable felt his heart beat erratically at that familiar voice. Wolverine stood at the periphery of the small circle that the children had made. His mouth was stretched out in a wide grin – or was it a snarl? – sharp canines clearly visible. All six adamantium claws were popped out from his knuckles.

 

Despite the menacing pose of the X Regiment captain, Diable could not help the feeling of longing that filled his heart. "Logan...."

 

 

 

Logan was still speaking with Warren when his acute scent of smell caught a whiff of something strange in the air. There was no mistaking the fragrant aroma of sweet cakes, but there was another, more disturbing scent underneath it. The ozone of raw, crackling power, which overwhelmed even Thor's thwarted attempt to create lightning.

 

He gripped Warren's arm hard, stopping the younger man in mid-sentence. "Tell the Colonel. Diable's here."

 

"The knave! I ought to..."

 

"Diable's my job. Just inform Colonel Xavier that I sensed the thief's presence here and that I'll take care of it."

 

Warren nodded silently. He placed his empty glass on the tray of a passing servant before hurrying off. At the same time, Logan stalked off into the bushes, heading in the direction of the rose garden where he had seen the children disappear to.

 

As he neared the rose garden, he heard the voices and laughter of the children. Sniffing the air, he realized that there were two men with them. Emerging from the bushes, he instantly let his adamantium claws pop out with a "snikt" at the sight of the tall figure standing near the children.

 

There was no mistaking the fact that the man before him was indeed Le Diable Blanc. He was tall but with the lithe, graceful body of a thief. His face was the pitch black color of onyx, although Logan could see that his features were that of a Caucasian's instead of that of an African's. His long silky silver white hair lifted and lowered in the gentle breeze. To match his sinister physical appearance, Diable was wearing a black coat and shirt with dark trousers clinging to his long legs and spit-shined boots on his feet.

 

He was momentarily surprised, however, when he heard the thief whisper, "Logan..."

 

"I see ya know my name, bub," Logan growled.

 

That statement shook Diable out of the stunned stupor he was in. Grinning, he replied, "Oh, I know a lot about you people in de X Regiment."

 

"So you are a spy for the other side."

 

"Non, I just have my...own agenda, mon ami. Somethin' personal. Mais, I can' resist a little thievin'. It's in de blood, you see."

 

Diable reached down and patted Lockjaw's head, his long fingers suggestively caressing the strange forked antenna protruding from the dog's crown. "Dis time, though, I came to return stuff. I don' like other people usin' my name when dey steal useless items which I don' even want to touch. Of course, Lockjaw here is mon ami. I got his collar back."

 

"Great!" Logan snorted. "A thief who values his reputation."

 

"A reputation is de only thing a man like me has," Diable said with a resigned shrug.

 

Wolverine's eyes fell upon Wade Wilson who was still eating heartily. Giving the man a bop at the back of the head, he snarled, "As for you, you're useless. No wonder they don't want to recruit you to the X Regiment."

 

Teary-eyed, Wilson whined, "But I got hungry from all that exertion."

 

"Oh, don' be too hard on de man, Monsieur Wolverine," Diable chided the older man. "Mais, as for me, I bid ya adieu."

 

"HEY!" Before Logan can act, Diable let a glowing playing card fall from his fingers. The card blew up, creating a cloud of pink smoke. When the smoke cleared, the thief had disappeared.

 

Logan grinned wickedly as he caught Diable's scent in the northeast direction. "Don't think you'll be gettin' away from me that easily."

 

At these words, Wolverine loped off after the thief, leaping over the wall of Warren's mansion and onto the sidewalk, surprising a couple of gentlemen who happened to be walking along.

 

He raced through the busy evening streets, dodging strollers and sellers. At one point, he even thwarted a robber's attempt to steal a woman's bag by knocking the rusty knife out of his hand with his claws. Even with all these distractions, he kept his acute sense of smell focused on the alluring scent of the notorious thief.

 

Soon, Logan realized that the scent was much stronger, meaning that Diable was nearby, or – he trained his eyes to rooftops – just above his head. He quickened his pace, meeting the charge of an oncoming carriage. With a roar, he leaped over the horses and onto the carriage roof, shocking the driver. He then jumped over to the roof of the building to the left, just in time to block Diable's way.

 

Seeing the older man, Diable dug his boot heels into the tiled roof and skidded to a halt. "We really should stop meeting like dis, mon ami."

 

"I ain't your 'ami'," Logan crossed his gleaming claws menacingly before him. "Now, how would you want this? We could do it the easy way or the hard way."

 

A small rod popped out of the sleeve of Diable's long coat, extending into a long, shiny bo staff. The thief expertly twirled the staff before assuming a graceful pose.

 

Logan clucked his tongue. "The hard way then."

 

Wolverine did not hesitate and charged first, swiping at the younger man with his claws. Diable leaped out of the way, letting his staff sweep into an arch and catching the X Regiment captain on the side of the head.

 

As Logan dropped to one knee, Diable said, "I guess de first hit goes to me."

 

"That's the first and the last time."

 

At once, Wolverine began swinging his blades with deadly precision. Up, down, left, right, down, right, left, up... He pushed the thief into the defensive, so that all Diable could do was to parry his attacks with his staff. When Diable blocked a right hand thrust, Logan brought his left claws upward, leaving large slashes on the thief's coat.

 

"Merde!" Diable cursed under his breath, looking at the tears. "It'll take me forever to sew dis up."

 

"Don' worry," Wolverine said, grinning. "You won't need your coat in Newgate Prison."

 

Before Logan could even blink, Diable was suddenly beside him in a flash. He felt soft lips brush against his cheek.

 

"You plannin' to keep dis thief warm at night?" Diable whispered in his ear.

 

Wolverine was going to plunge his claws into the thief's belly. What stopped him, however, was the sight of five glowing playing cards heading his way. He barely raised his claws in time when the cards suddenly exploded.

 

"Je suis desole, Logan," Diable said regretfully as he hurried off. "I can' let you catch me. Not yet."

 

The thief gasped, however, when a scorched Wolverine emerged from the smoke, his eyes gleaming like burnished gold. "That all ya got?"

 

Not wanting to face the older man again, Diable picked up his pace, hoping he could elude the X Regiment captain by leaping from rooftop to rooftop and darting through dirty side streets and alleys. But Wolverine was determined to capture his prey.

 

Nearing St. James's Park, Diable knew that there was only one place where he could possibly seek sanctuary.

 

Seeing the elegant brownstone building up ahead, the thief used his bo staff to vault over the high wall and leaped onto a tree branch, which extended to a room on the second floor. He then climbed into the open window, just in time to see his mentor who was about to leave his suite.

 

Expressive blue eyes widened as the thief entered his bedroom. "Remy, what the hell!"

 

"S'il vous plait!" Diable cried frantically as he gradually reverted back to his true form of the M Regiment lieutenant Remy LeBeau. "You must hide me!"

 

"Mon petite voleur..." came the exasperated reply. "...Did Monsieur Essex make you do something dangerous again?"

 

"I don' have time to explain!" Remy exclaimed as he all but ran into the dressing room where he kept an extra set of his regimental uniform. He was about to close the door so he could dress, but his mentor stopped it with this hand.

 

"What have you been doing, Remy?" he asked, his voice impatient for an answer.

 

Groaning, Remy started peeling off his clothes, tossing each piece of clothing into the chute. "I'll explain everythin' to you later. Wolverine's after me an'..."

 

That name caused dark eyebrows to knit together in a frown. "Wolverine... Are you talking about Logan? He's coming here?"

 

"Oui. I wouldn't have come here. Mais, Logan is chasin' me like a bloodhound..." Remy stopped at once as his mentor stormed back into the bedroom and picked up his sword. "What are you doin'?"

 

The two men paused at the sounds of a disturbance below. Wolverine has finally arrived.

 

"Stay here!" his mentor admonished him before hurrying outside.

 

"Non, wait!" Frustrated, all Remy could do was to lock the door of the dressing room, so that he could put on his uniform.

 

If the Cajun had gone out into the hallway in pursuit of the other man, he would have seen the shock on Logan's face as he beheld the proud owner of the notorious molly house known as Avalon.

 

"Fancy meeting you here, Logan. And I had been hoping that I'd never see your face again."

 

In his surprise, all Logan could gasp out was the man's name. "Jean-Paul Beaubier!"

 

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

TRANSLATION:

 

1\. "Je vous demande pardon" = I beg your pardon

2\. "Mon petite voleur" = My little thief

 


	7. Chapter Seven

** _DISCLAIMER: This story is a non-commercial work of fiction based on the Marvel comic book series X-MEN. All Marvel Characters and the distinctive likeness(es) thereof are Trademarks &amp; Copyright © 1941 - 2008 Marvel Characters, Inc. Absolutely no monetary gain has been made with this work._ **

**FRACTION OF TRUTH**

**© July 10, 2011 By Rory V. Pascual**

 

 

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 

In all the years that he had lived in the Americas, Logan would often look back to the time he had spent in London – of friends he had made, lovers he had loved, friends and lovers he had lost and betrayed. He often wondered if he would be given the opportunity to atone for the sins he had committed. With time, though, he buried his transgressions deep into his tumultuous psyche in the belief that what had been done could not be undone because of the vast distance between the two nations. Soon, he forgot about them entirely.

 

One's life mistakes, however, have a way of rearing their ugly heads up when least expected.

 

Logan could certainly not call Jean-Paul Beaubier 'ugly' – strikingly handsome, with stunning ice blue eyes, pointed elfin ears, crowned by a thick, glossy mass of ebony silk, the ends of which curled at his nape. Despite the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the sprinkling of gray in his hair, Jean-Paul looked the same as when he had last seen him fifteen years ago.

 

No, perhaps not the same. There was hardness to Jean-Paul's features that was not present before. Those eyes that once sparkled with laughter now flashed with anger and hatred. That fierce look – and his startlement at beholding his former lover – would have been enough to cow the savage Wolverine within him. However, with the animal unleashed, all he could think about was capturing his prey.

 

"Out of my way, Jean-Paul!" Logan snarled at the slim figure in black standing at the top of the stairs. "I saw Le Diable Blanc enter this place an' I aim to catch him!"

 

The man known as Northstar was not intimidated by threats, even from a feral on the brink of a berserker rage.

 

"Oh, really!" Jean-Paul exclaimed, cocking his head up haughtily. "And by whose authority? Good King George himself? You've been gone from London for far too long if you think Avalon would welcome the likes of you!"

 

Logan trained his gleaming golden gaze at the men who were the sole clientele of the establishment. By outward appearances, it seemed like an ordinary gentleman's club. But fear of the feral in their midst prompted the men in attendance to reveal their true nature. One middle-aged merchant pulled a fair-haired young man into his protective embrace. Another Navy officer instinctively urged his soldier companion behind his back. Others cowered in the shadows or hid behind large vases. There was no mistaking what type of establishment Avalon was.

 

"Do the authorities know of the...activities...in your club?" he asked insidiously.

 

"What we do here is no one's business but our own," was Jean-Paul's undaunted reply. "Avalon is a sanctuary for those who are misunderstood and detested."

 

"And does that include notorious thieves?"

 

"There are no thieves here, Monsieur Howlett!"

 

"Let me be the judge of that!" Logan declared, bounding up the stairs two steps at a time.

 

There was the sharp hiss of a blade being drawn from its scabbard. Logan barely parried with his claws the thrust that followed. Why wasn't he surprised that Northstar's sword was made of adamantium?

 

"I don't want to fight you, Jean-Paul! Lower your weapon!"

 

"Oh, but I do want to fight you, Logan! I want you to pay for those years that my sister and I had suffered because of you!"

 

Whoever had given Jean-Paul Beaubier his nom de guerre of Northstar either had the touch of a poet or he didn't know his astronomy. Northstar was certainly not an immovable celestial fixture, as was his namesake. In fact, he moved with the speed of lightning, his lunges and thrusts coming fast and furious, so that Logan could barely raise an adequate defense. He could only cross his claws over his face and upper body to deflect those ferocious attacks. Before long, he realized he was slowly but surely being pushed back down the stairs.

 

Logan, however, would not be deterred from accomplishing his mission.

 

With a roar, Logan dove low – Jean-Paul's sword edge slashing his cheek – and grabbed the younger man around the waist. The sudden momentum caused Jean-Paul to stumble up a couple of steps, his hand hitting the wall so that he dropped his sword. As he fell painfully on his back, Logan seized his wrist in an iron grip and dragged him up the rest of the way.

 

"Lachez-moi, Logan! Let go of me, I say!" Jean-Paul yelled in outrage, his fingers clawing at the hand holding him. "Somebody help me!"

 

Curious heads peeked out of the chamber doors, only to duck back inside, as Logan snarled at them.

 

Reaching the door at the end of the hallway, he growled at the younger man, "This your room, Northstar?"

 

"Oui, but you're not welcome..."

 

Jean-Paul let out a cry as – with a kick of the door open – Logan flung him inside the suite with great force, so that he tripped over the edge of the plush Persian carpet and landed face first on the bed. He turned onto his back, but Logan leaped on top of him, pinning him down on the mattress.

 

"Let's you an' me have a heart-to-heart talk," Logan muttered, sharp canines poking out of his grinning mouth. "Where are ya hidin' Le Diable Blanc?"

 

"I know nothing!" Northstar shouted, spitting in the older man's face. He tried to free one leg to drive a knee into the Captain's groin. Sensing his intent, however, Logan brought his full weight down on Jean-Paul's body.

 

"Don't make this difficult on yourself, Jean-Paul. I have ways to make you cooperate with me."

 

"NON!" Jean-Paul cried, outraged, as sharp claws shredded his garments. Desperate, he willed his body to vibrate, with the intention of generating enough force and speed to be able to push the smaller – but heavier – man off him.

 

Knowing what he was about to do, Logan stilled the quaking of Northstar's body by enfolding him in his arms. Any protests that Jean-Paul had were silenced by a hard, bruising mouth upon his lips. He stiffened as callused palms fondled familiar planes on his body. Logan was about to thrust his tongue inside the younger man's mouth, but Jean-Paul wrenched his head to the side.

 

The beast inside him would have plundered the unwilling body beneath him. But what Northstar said next was like icy water being dumped on his head.

 

"Are you going to rape me again, Logan?" Jean-Paul asked through gritted teeth.

 

Logan jerked back – the gold in his eyes reverting back to a shocked blue – horrified by what he had almost done. "Jean-Paul...I..."

 

An angry voice suddenly spoke behind him. "Nyet. He will not!"

 

A strong, heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and sent him crashing into the wall. Dazed, Logan slid down to the floor, seeing through blurry eyes Piotr Rasputin in his metallic form, easing a shaken Jean-Paul to a sitting position.

 

"Are you all right, Jean-Paul?" Piotr asked worriedly. However, the sight of Northstar's torn garments enraged the Russian.

 

"PIOTR, NON!" Jean-Paul cried out as Colossus strode over to Wolverine.

 

Grabbing the semi-conscious man by the collar of his coat, Piotr clenched his hand into a tight fist, ready to pound Logan into a bleeding, pulpy mass.

 

What stopped the Russian were two trembling hands on his arm and the sight of pleading red on black eyes.

 

 

 

Inside the dressing room, Remy was struggling to button up his shirt, but his trembling fingers seemed to have lost its usual dexterity. He almost jumped at the sound of the bedroom door banging open, as well as the angry voices of Logan and Jean-Paul Beaubier. Seeing that he had inserted the buttons in the wrong holes, Remy completely gave up and reached for the door latch.

 

Just as he opened it a crack, he clearly heard his mentor whisper harshly, "Are you going to rape me again, Logan?" This angry query was followed by a loud crash.

 

Panicking, Remy flung the dressing room door wide open just in time to see Piotr Rasputin rush over to Wolverine, and picked the stunned man up with the intention of clobbering him to death.

 

Remy did not think twice. He threw himself at the Russian, grabbing his arm.

 

"Monsieur Rasputin, don't hurt him!" he earnestly begged Colossus. "S'il vous plait!"

 

For a moment, the Russian hesitated. Logan at that point had shaken himself out of his daze, enough to be startled by the sight of the M Regiment lieutenant.

 

Seeing the precarious impasse, Jean-Paul regained his composure and said, "Piotr, it's all right. Let him go. He did not hurt me."

 

"But Jean-Paul..."

 

"Please, Piotr. You are distressing my young apprentice."

 

With a glower at Logan, Piotr released the older man.

 

Remy breathed a sigh of relief and bowed to the captain. "Merci! Merci, Monsieur!"

 

"What are you doin' here, Cajun?" Logan turned to Remy, the suspicion making his blue eyes dark and stormy.

 

Still very tense from the chase and feeling harassed by the older man's harsh question, Remy blurted out, "I'm de one who should you be askin' you dat! Dis is de last place I'd ever expect to see ya!"

 

"I was chasin' after that thief Le Diable Blanc," Logan replied, irritated. "I saw him enter this place. This room, in particular."

 

"I've been here for most o' de evenin'. Unless de man is capable of makin' himself invisible, I saw no one."

 

"Which brings us back to my first question. What the hell are ya doin' here, Cajun?"

 

Remy suddenly found himself at a loss for words. "Uhm...I..."

 

Jean-Paul patted Piotr's broad chest in reassurance as the brawny captain draped his coat over the younger man's frame. "Please leave us, Piotr. Nothing's going to happen, I promise."

 

"I'll just be in the room next door...listening," Piotr emphasized that last to Logan before stalking out of the bedchamber and locking the door behind him.

 

Turning at last to Logan, Jean-Paul said bluntly, "Didn't you hear what I said, Logan? Remy LeBeau here is my apprentice."

 

"Apprentice to what?" Logan growled. "Whoring?"

 

"If that is what you want to call it, fine," Jean-Paul countered just as hotly. "However, what we do for this country leaves neither Remy nor I any choice but to just lie still and let other men satisfy their base urges upon us. You in particular, Logan, deprived me of that choice. So, spare me of any of your pretensions to virtue. You and I both know the kind of man you are!"

 

When Logan fell into guilty silence, Jean-Paul nodded to the flustered Cajun and patted the space on the bed beside him. Remy could not even look at Wolverine as he approached his mentor, sitting down on the bed.

 

"You've been trying to avoid the issue all evening, Remy," Jean-Paul began with measured slowness. "What is it exactly that Essex wants me to teach you? Is it...that...again?"

 

Remy's cheeks turned as red as his eyes, realizing what his mentor was implying. _Surely he wouldn't let me...not in front of Logan!_

 

"What?" Logan asked, incensed. "What did Essex want you to teach Remy?"

 

Remy's heart sank as Jean-Paul confirmed his suspicions. "Essex always desired that Remy pleasure himself before him. But, for some reason, my dear apprentice can't seem to arouse himself. I believed at first that it could be a deep rooted fear to commit the sin of onanism. However, I don't think this is the case." He turned again to the Cajun. "I want you to try again, Remy. But this time, I want you to do it in front of Logan."

 

Both men were stunned to silence at that last statement.

 

It was Remy who exclaimed first, "Non, Jean-Paul! You can't ask me to do dat! I can't do it!"

 

"You can't or you won't?"

 

"I have heard enough!" Logan declared angrily, his entire face red and hot. "I'm leavin'."

 

"Unless you want me to call Colossus, I highly suggest that you stay right where you are," Jean-Paul said sternly, before looking at the Cajun. "And as for you, you will obey me. You don't want Essex to become infuriated with you." He clutched Remy's trembling hand. "C'est tout droit. There is nothing to be afraid of. Logan...he is a friend, oui? Surely you can do it for a friend."

 

Remy swallowed hard. Not trusting his own voice, he simply nodded. He turned his sad, but firm gaze toward Logan, crimson orbs locking with confused blue eyes.

 

With sinuous grace, Remy lowered himself on the bed, removing each button slowly and suggestively. When he reached the waistband of his trousers, he also removed the buttons at the front, and yanked his shirt free. His fingers shook as he eased the right side of his shirt aside, baring his right breast. With full lips parted, he caressed his cheek – letting soft, silky reddish brown strands to fall across his face – before sliding his palm down his neck and shoulder. He stopped halfway down his arm, and then crossed over to his chest, squeezing and fondling his pectoral, but carefully avoiding the hardening nub. His fingertips traced the outline of his areola before letting it brush over the tip of a taut nipple. That light touch sent a delicious tingle radiating throughout his body, so that Remy gasped, arching his upper body upward, his breast aching for another caress. Surrendering to the demands of his flesh, he bared his other breast. The Cajun let out a delicious moan from his moist lips, as he rolled his nipples between his fingers. He squeezed and tweaked them until they were tight, red pebbles of desire. As he fondled and played with his sensitive teats, his long legs twitched restlessly, the movement causing his hardening erection to spring through the opening of his trousers.

 

"Lift your hips, Petit," Remy barely heard Jean-Paul's words, but he obeyed nonetheless, so that his mentor could yank his trousers free from his legs.

 

If at first the Cajun was hesitant to perform such a shameless display, now he was a wanton, desiring to pleasure himself and the man who stood frozen at the foot of the bed.

 

Letting his left hand descend over the curves of muscles over his abdomen, Remy looked at Logan, whose face had become an unreadable mask, although his blue eyes mirrored his yearning.

 

_For you, Logan,_ Remy spoke the words inside his mind, as his fingers brushed through crimson pubic curls and his hand closed around his straining cock. _I do this only for you_.

 

The Cajun writhed gracefully on the mattress, as he pulled and milked his member to its full hardness with his left hand, while his right did the same ministrations to his left nipple. He even gathered his tightening testicles into his grip, feeling the balls within hardening, earnest to explode. But, he did not want to come. Not yet. Not so soon.

 

Releasing his red, abused nipple, Remy gingerly dipped a finger down between his thighs, his hips thrusting upwards as he touched the sensitive ridge of his perineum. Slowly, he poked his little finger inside his puckered opening, feeling the ring tighten around the digit. He slid the finger in and out, only to find the sensations unsatisfactory. He then replaced it with an index finger, gasping as his fingertip brushed a spot that sent sparks flashing through his eyes. However, one finger was still not enough. As he pulled his finger out, he added a second finger and then a third, thrusting and stretching, so that he could feel the ring of muscles closing and opening convulsively around his intruding digits. In and out, he plunged his fingers again and again, while his other hand pumped his cock relentlessly.

 

Remy never realized that he had closed his eyes, his traitorous mind revealing the true desires of his heart. Instead of the empty, cold London air above him, it was Logan who straddled him with his heavy but warm body. Instead of his fingers, it was the X Regiment captain who was driving him to the very precipice.

 

When he finally came – his seed spurting all over his belly and hand – his mind was nearly shattered by the brutal reality that not only had he aroused and indulged himself in the forbidden pleasure of his own body, he had done so with the mental image of the man whom he so respected and admired.

 

So it was to his great dismay to discover that – with the exception of him and Jean-Paul – the room was now empty. Unable to speak, he turned his eyes toward his mentor, who approached him with a washcloth in his hand.

 

Jean-Paul shook his head. "Logan fled right before the end."

 

Remy took the cloth and proceeded to clean himself up. And yet never had he felt so filthy until today. "Why did you let me do this, Jean-Paul?" he asked bitterly.

 

"Because I wanted to verify something," Jean-Paul simply answered. "You feel something for Logan, don't you?"

 

"I won't deny that I like the man very much," Remy chose to speak truth. "Why is it so wrong?"

 

"You don't know Logan the way I do, Remy. You are suffering enough with your troubles with Essex and the M Regiment, not to mention Jono. I will not see your heart broken as well."

 

"I am a grown man, Jean-Paul. You cannot tell me whom I should give my heart to."

 

"You may be a grown man, Remy, but you let your emotions overwhelm you," Jean-Paul argued fiercely. "You want to know why you couldn't pleasure yourself before Essex? Because you could never do it before a man – or even a woman – whom you don't love. And, yet, despite your initial reluctance, you have done it in front of Logan! Him, of all people!"

 

"What is so wrong about Logan? He had shown me nothing but kindness since we first met!"

 

"Would you want to see your heart and your pride thrown away into the gutter like Logan did to me and my sister?"

 

Understanding dawned upon the Cajun as he remembered the bits and pieces of information that he knew about his mentor. "Are you telling me that it was Logan..."

 

Jean-Paul stood up and pounded his fist on the table. "You'd better leave now, Remy. I wish you hadn't brought Wolverine to my doorstep, but I suppose this...reunion...was inevitable."

 

"Je suis desole, Jean-Paul," Remy said truthfully, with a trace of resentment in his voice. "I should never have come here to seek sanctuary while on my rounds as Diable."

 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and Piotr peeked inside. "Logan is waiting downstairs. Shall I throw him out?"

 

Hearing this, Remy hurried into the dressing room to get dressed. To Jean-Paul's relief, the young man did not notice the surprised look on his face.

 

"Non, Piotr. There's no need," Jean-Paul reassured him. "It seems Logan is waiting for our dear Cajun."

 

Inside the dressing room, Remy could not help but feel happy that the X Regiment captain had decided to stay and wait for him. When he was finally dressed, he timidly stepped outside to behold an amorous sight.

 

Jean-Paul was straddling the Russian's muscular thighs. While Piotr suckled like a hungry babe upon Northstar's nipple, his enormous cock thrust in and out of his lover's body.

 

"Au revoir, Jean-Paul, and merci," Remy said with a bow to his mentor.

 

Although he was panting for breath, Jean-Paul reached out and tenderly caressed the Cajun's cheek. "Soyuz prudent, Remy. I don't want to see you get hurt."

 

"Logan won't hurt me," was the Cajun's firm reply, as he left Jean-Paul's suite.

 

As Piotr had said, Logan was indeed waiting for him, standing stolidly near the front door, much to the trepidation of the doorman. Noticing the Cajun's cautious approach, Logan did not say a word. He simply nodded outside and strode out the door, with Remy following at his heels.

 

The two men just walked in silence, with Remy a few paces behind the older man. He dared not walk beside the brooding captain. There was the sharp crack of thunder, and then heavy rain started to pour down on their heads.

 

"How long have you known Jean-Paul?" Logan's voice could barely be heard above the din of the pouring rain.

 

"Just a little over a year," Remy confessed. "He's been..."

 

"Training you, yes, I can see that," Logan said with bitter sarcasm.

 

The Cajun could not suppress the anger that welled up inside him. "Non, I don' think you do see! You know dat I belong to a regiment dat demands results, no matter de method by which you attain dem. Since dat moment when we first met, you knew what I was, an' don' you dare lie to me! With your acute senses, I knew you smelled Sabretooth on me!"

 

The older man's voice cracked slightly as he replied, "Yes. Yes, I did."

 

"Den why are you so angry with me?!"

 

"Because I don't want to see you makin' a whore of yourself for me!"

 

That shocking outburst caused the two men to fall into troubled silence. Only the rain continued its downpour, drenching the two officers to the bone with a chill that was further intensified by the tension between them.

 

Remy's voice was barely a whisper. "Mais, dat's what I am, Logan. An' dat's de lesser of de many sins dat I have committed in my life." The cold rain washed away the warm tears that streamed down his cheeks. "I'm goin' to request Colonel Essex dat he dissolve our partnership. I don' think dat we should work together anymore."

 

"Yes, I think you're right," was the hoarse answer.

 

The finality in that reply almost prompted the Cajun to run away. But, pride made him stay for a few moments more to give the older man one final word.

 

"Logan, Jean-Paul was not lyin' when he said dat I couldn' pleasure myself in front of anyone, mais, I finally did it with you," Remy confessed, his voice painfully flat. "Maybe you could think about it an' tell me what dat means. Maybe you could tell me why I would still do it...if it were you."

 

At these words, the Cajun strode off, not once looking back at the dark, hunched form of the X Regiment captain.

 

Logan's hand rose to his eyes, rubbing his tearing blue orbs with his fingers. "I don't even want to think about it, Remy," he mumbled in anguish. "But I do know for a fact that I could never allow you to ruin your life for me as Jean-Paul had."

 

 

 

 

Remy arrived at Essex's mansion well before daybreak. Closing the door, he leaned his back to it wearily, as the tears he was struggling to hold threatened to spill free from his eyes once more.

 

&lt;Remy, are you all right?&gt;

 

The Cajun looked up to see Jono, still wearing his sleeping robe and bearing a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

 

"Just tired, Petite," he replied, grateful for the hot drink that the boy gingerly handed to him. "All I want to do right now is get into bed and sleep for de whole day."

 

&lt;If that's the case, I'll be very happy ter keep yer company,&gt; Jono said in delight. &lt;I haven't had much sleep myself because of all the commotion last night.&gt;

 

"Why? Did something happen while I was out?"

 

Remy's question was answered by the booming voice of Nathaniel Essex coming from the top of the stairs. "I'm glad to see that you've finally arrived. You're just in time to meet our guest."

 

Essex gestured to someone upstairs, and a beautiful young woman descended and took her place at his side. Even without the familiar white streak in her brown hair, the Cajun recognized her at once.

 

"I would you like to meet Lady Anna Marie von Lehnsherr," the M Regiment colonel declared in introduction. "Anna, this is Lieutenant Remy LeBeau. The lady will be gracing us with her company for the next few days."

 

Using his telepathy, Jono told his guardian, &lt;I don't like her, Remy. I can't explain why, but I don't think I can trust her.&gt;

 

Remy ignored his ward's observations and strode up the stairs. Taking the hand of the X Regiment officer known as Rogue, he courteously kissed her fingertips, "Enchanté de vous rencontrer à nouveau, Madame. I hope you will enjoy your stay with us."

 

"Ahm sure I will, Lieutenant LeBeau," Rogue answered, gazing down at him with undisguised interest. Her lips curled up in a small smile. "Ahm sure I will."

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

TRANSLATION:

 

1\. C'est tout droit. = It's all right.

2\. Soyuz prudent = Be careful.

3\. Enchanté de vous rencontrer à nouveau, madame. = Pleased to meet you again, Madame.


End file.
